Insecure
by sgt-phoenix
Summary: Mokuba gives money to a homeless person every day. One day he asks Seto to hand his donation from the passenger seat and once he finds it in himself to give a contribution on his own, he's surprised at who he finds on the streets. Slow simmered Joey/Kaiba pairing, teen Mokuba and OC. Rated for impending language and content. Reviews welcome and always very much appreciated.
1. Chapter 1

Insecure

~ Chapter 1 ~

' _I hope Seto's okay…_ ' Mokuba thought as he gazed pensively out the window.

He had spent nearly the entire ride focusing and refocusing on his reflection made prominent by the gloom and the atmospheric floor lights casting dim shadows in the back cabin of his limo, all the while listening to Adele perform humbly from behind his seat. He wasn't so much as concerned with his brother's physical well-being as much as his mentality. He was always sure to be a tad extra grumpy when it rained and today proved to be teasing a small flash flood. He began to sigh again and winced as they abruptly hit another pothole by the curb, whizzing straight through the intersection bound to have splashed a small crowd of bystanders on the sidewalk waiting for the bus.

He thought about what bus they could be catching, where they could be going. Home, like himself? To work? From work? He cringed at the thought of how furious they must be with him and his privileged car. He shrunk down a bit in his seat, offhandedly wondering how much rainfall the city averaged. He mentally counted every person with an umbrella they passed, every girl with polka dotted rainboots. He thought about Adele's new song, and what he thought of it. Somber melody, plain and simple, coherent messaging and the chorus easy to follow. What most songs these days needed, in his opinion. He found himself mentally going through the motions with her the third time around, though he would never admit it to anyone. Since he had been old enough to understand what she was singing about, he found himself genuinely curious about who this person was and what they had done to be focused on so acutely. How a person could hold such an infamy to their name without it being said or known to him. And why? Maybe it was just the power of Adele, he concluded. The same way Edgar Allen Poe could strike fear and induce physical chills through his pieces just as effectively.

He thought about the girls at school who would always sing it. He thought about the one he liked, who didn't. She wasn't much of an "expressive" girl in his eyes. He thought about his brother, who could be interpreted in the same way. He wondered if he would approve of her if he ever got around to telling him about her. Would it even be worth the take of breath? Would he even care? Probably not. He rolled around to recapping the day he had had and thought about his upcoming Chemistry exam and the impending 'A' he was expecting from his recent Statistics quiz. He thought about his Home ec class and homework. He thought of the homeless who didn't have work, or a home to go to.

In that fleeting instant he just wanted to give every penny he could spare to eradicate the poverty and unfair minimum wage in the city, to the soup kitchens and the shelters. He thought about his girl again, how she volunteered at some local animal shelter on weekends since her mother and father were allergic to most pet dander. She loved animals. The thought of her sparked the images of sickly, abused animals that were desperate for help, followed by her cradling and bottle-feeding a litter of two-week old kittens. Not for the first time he thought about adopting a certain Jack Russel terrier she favored as a secret present. He would keep it in a secluded quarter of the house, where he stupidly hoped his brother would never find it, so she would have an excuse to come over and she could have a pet. He sighed again, more longingly this time.

They were ready to take the familiar turn onto the expressway when Mokuba was tugged away from his thoughts by a curious, dark mass upcoming on the sidewalk. As they came to a stop next to it, he noticed it was trembling. It was a mass of blankets, with a drenched curl of what seemed to be blond hair peeking from a small, inverted teardrop shaped opening in the front with a cardboard sign scribbled on with water-streaked marker floating in a puddle next to it. There was a great leap of shock in his chest as Mokuba rushed to pat his pockets for his wallet. He fumbled as he looked frantically from his lap to the traffic light. He let the window down halfway, extending his arm through the downpour to the shivering stranger.

The stranger turned their shrouded face to the folded bill in his hand, seeming reluctant to take it. They reached out, hesitated, and gave a gesture somewhat akin to a wave before they accepted the tribute, their brief touch of hands contrasting against Mokuba's soft warmth with a rigid callous and cold. They briefly shook and Mokuba reeled his half soaked arm back into the car as it sped off again. He wiggled his fingers, trying to flex some feeling back into them, musing that the stranger had to have been a man. Their hand had been twice the size of his own and their frame had quite a wide build he could tell, even underneath the heaviness of that soaked bedsheet.

' _Doesn't he know that only makes it worse?_ ' he wondered painfully. ' _I guess he does…_ ' he thought as the wind whipped the rain in swirls ahead and alongside of him. Now all he could do was worry and wonder how sick the man was bound to get. ' _He going to catch a cold.'_ He anxiously tapped his fingers. _'He could catch pneumonia. He could catch pneumonia and die—damn it—_ '

"Stop!"

The tires locked and whizzed and screeched underneath him and he clutched onto the door for dear life as the limo coasted a few feet to the side of the road before it came to a halt.

"What's the matter, sir?"

"We have to go back."

There was a brief pause. "But sir, Master Kaiba is awaiting your return—"

"Now!" He held his breath.

The driver sighed quietly, turning on his signal ready to merge back into traffic. "Where to, sir?"

"Back down Mayberry Road."

"Right away, sir."

He let it go. Mokuba was suddenly shivering from nerves, exhilaration and the sudden icy chill creeping up his arm as he settled back into his seat. He had never snapped at Mandel like that before. Briefly, he wondered if his brother still got those occasional chills from time to time whenever he barked orders at people. He doubted it. He decided to nullify the theory that most people had adapted, that he "got off" on it. It was to the point to where it already happened so often that Mokuba wished he didn't know what the euphemism meant. If he remembered correctly, the first person he had verbally heard it from was Yugi's brash friend, Joey. Or Wheeler, as his brother courteously referred to him as on his good days.

It had been a while since he personally heard from either of them. It had been a good few months, at least. Now that he thought about it, it had been roughly a year. Two? He hadn't the slightest idea.

It was a brief tangent that got him nowhere as Mokuba dropped it and began scanning every street corner they passed off the exit, retracing their route to the upcoming traffic light.

"When, sir?" Mandel asked.

"Uhh…" They were approaching the spot where Mokuba had seen the stranger, only to find that the street corner was now deserted. Part of Mokuba was relieved. The other half raced to worry that the stranger had keeled over blue on the sidewalk and had been hauled off on a stretcher to a mortician or kicked and rolled into the bushes on the side of the road. "Nevermind. You can take me home now."

~ M ~

Eight minutes later Mokuba was sprinting up the front walk through the downpour where the door was promptly opened for him and his coat was taken by Mary; a shorter, brunette, bowing maid. He slipped off his shoes and felt the slight, familiar bounce of the plush carpet of the foyer through his socks, then the slippery hardwood of the staircase he climbed, heading for his brother's study.

"You're five minutes late," he heard no sooner had he entered.

Mokuba briefly rolled his eyes knowing that he was teasing, even if his tone was serious. "That's only five over Mand's record time."

Kaiba almost sneered as he flashed his eyes to him, still shifting through a page on his computer screen. "How was school?"

"Fine." He set his bag next to the sofa as he crashed onto it. "We reached our goal for the bake sale—which appreciated those Snickerdoodles you "made" by the way…" He smirked as his brother's hand froze atop the mouse and cast a murderous glare in his direction. "Your secret's safe with me," he said as he folded his fingers together in satisfactory on top of his chest. "The thing is…I sorta ate em."

"Figured as much," he snorted.

"But Cathy helped me make something. It was a last ditch effort but—"

"It's the last time I "contribute" to any of your school functions. It's asinine, really."

"…the icing made it edible. How so?" he asked.

"Unendorsed labor, children pestering for contributors, that's what the administration should be doing. Not forcing kids to kiss the ass of every adult they see with googly eyes to raise money for a cause they hardly have knowledge of. Could be supporting that principle's drinking habit for all you know. I should know. I fail to see much variation from a Chinese sweatshop pushing out counterfeit handbags."

"Come on. It's called volunteering, Seto. Like it's any different than the donating you do for charity events."

"There's a huge difference. I have no choice."

"You choose how much you donate."

"Kaiba Corp.'s obligated to a certain amount."

"'As long as it outweighs everyone else's efforts' isn't a set amount, Seto. Anyway, we have a school trip coming up—"

"Please, just set it on the mounting pile of other documents I need to sign," he tersely interrupted.

"Seto," he sighed, "why do you insist on bringing your work home?"

"Being the CEO of Kaiba Corp I fail to notice the difference between bringing my work home and being at home in the office." Mokuba knew he hardly had to glance up to know he was frowning at him. "I practically live at the office, Mokuba. This is merely routine and you know it."

Mokuba tried to blow it off this time and took a deep breath. "I could just forge your signature," he mumbled.

His jaw tensing, Mokuba could tell his brother was tapping the fingers of his unoccupied hand on his lap, taking note of his slumped posture. "Just give it here," he finally said.

Mokuba unzipped his bag and three seconds later it was in Kaiba's hands, who was pushing up a set of reading lens over his nose as he looked it over.

"It's just a trip to the planetarium."

"Didn't you go on this same trip last year?"

"Two years ago. They added a new exhibit."

"Hn. Doubt it'll make much difference." Kaiba undocked a pen from the head of his desk and put his signature in thin calligraphy a slight even millimeter over the line.

Mokuba half-smiled when he remembered, "Didn't you wanna go just a few months ago?"

"No, that was you asking to go to the aquarium."

' _Right…_ ' he drawled within his head. "Well, either way we never went."

"Since when do you even take interest in looking at obese mammals in tanks? You could just go to the ocean and see them beached for free. They even come with the courtesy of clothing."

"Since when do you take interest in balls of gas when you could just eat Indian food and have a colonoscopy?"

His jaw clenched again. Mokuba was smirking and biting back a laugh and even though his eyes were back at his computer screen again, he knew he could see him from the corner of his eye. Tapping his mouse again, they cut to him. "Don't you have homework to do?"

"No."

"Mokuba, don't lie to me."

"I'm not," he said with a hint of defense noticing his voice was raising.

"So if I called your tutor right now, all of your assignments would be done?"

He rolled his eyes. "Like you would waste your precious time. He has a name you know."

"This isn't a threat, Mokuba," his brother managed with less menace than Mokuba could tell wanted to be expressed. Against his better judgement, it only urged Mokuba to challenge his patience.

"Oh, but god-forbid your baby being open to neglect for a full sixty seconds while you discipline me."

"Keep in mind that that baby is paying for your education, this house, and sustaining the company you keep around to keep that smart mouth of yours updated with plenty of unnecessary attitude I have to deal with."

Mokuba's slight, smug smile fell. His eyes widened and everything went still. "I…I—they don't… People enjoy my company," he said. Mokuba stared at his brother with his breath stalling in his lungs as he opened his mouth multiple times, grasping for something more to say, before he finally let it go and frowned.

"Thanks to mine."

That did it. His frown deepened until it had sunk and solidified into a spitting mirror-image of the scowl his older brother was infamous for, and he said, "You know you could try being less of a jerk sometimes, Seto. It would do you some good." He wished he could have said something much more cutting, but that was the best he could settle for along with snatching the slip from underneath his hand, snatching up his bag, and storming out of the room.

Kaiba, not realizing that he was standing from his chair, heavily sat down and stretched his legs, lazily letting the chair spin towards the wall of a window behind him and tilting his head to look out at the gloom backdrop of his backyard. He rolled his eyes seeing his irked expression staring back at him and returned to his proper posture and back to his computer, in his mind already contemplating turning in early tonight.


	2. Chapter 2

Insecure

~ Chapter 2 ~

Kaiba casually went about his morning like usual, ignoring the growing sense gnawing at him that Mokuba would walk in and catch him lingering at the kitchen bar with his coffee. Catch him, as if he were in the wrong for loitering in his own kitchen. Ridiculous, he knew.

Kaiba felt the urge to take a sip of his coffee, but instead firmly gripped the handle of the mug as if it were glued to the counter and he were readying himself to yank it away. His foot developed a slight twitch and shortly swayed back and forth as his ankles were crossed, before it promptly ceased. He started to grind his teeth, when he fitted his tongue between them.

He hated descending into such pitiful habits, hated "needing" a pick-me-up every morning just like every other caffeine addict. He hated being so stubborn about not needing it that he was willing to let it go to waste and cold in front of him. It felt too…relatable. No, human, for the lack of a better term. He was an emotionless robot, wasn't he?

In his defense his brain did still feel a bit fried and recovering from negotiating that contract with that chatty executive extending late over dinner the night before, only getting four hours of sleep. He hadn't drunk, but he could only imagine that the way he felt in the head had to be akin in some way to a hangover. So coffee was a reasonable remedy, right?

' _Said every damn addict ever…_ '

He knew it was a myth, anyway. He sighed roughly and slipped his hand up the countertop, past his coffee, and brought it, cringing in frustration, behind his neck.

' _Stubborn-ass kid…_ ' he ground.

Nearly two weeks after the fact and Mokuba still wasn't talking to him. And he wouldn't consider it at all miraculous that they had avoided each other so flawlessly either. He was well aware of Mokuba's tendencies to adapt and go out of his way to step around his habitual schedule, with the exception of today. Twenty minutes ago he should have been at and out the door with his suit jacket being swiftly situated over his shoulders, steel briefcase and the day's impending workload firmly in his grip before he set foot in the office.

Was he still running in avid circles with how he had aggravated the situation with him? Yes. Did he wish it hadn't happened? Yes. Would he agree that it would have been best to just give the argument to Mokuba? Maybe. Did he regret saying what he had said? No. Perhaps the better question was whether someone was going to take the initiative to amend or even apologize. Kaiba knew himself well enough to know that it probably wasn't going to be him.

He had, in his opinion, what was such a petty reasoning, but he had a split second decision to make. He had fought against it, but the stubborn, narcissistic business side of him wanted Mokuba to hear it. Not to take it to heart but to understand. But it didn't make it any easier for Kaiba admit to himself that he had ultimately insulted and hurt his feelings.

He told himself that he was through babying Mokuba years ago and here he was again kicking himself for what should have been nothing. He just wanted to finish his coffee—dare to enjoy it if he could find it in himself to even drink it—and finish going through the regular motions of getting himself to work.

He froze when he heard a shuffle just outside of the doorway to the kitchen and felt a presence lingering outside. A maid promptly passed by and Kaiba could only assume she had paused to pick up something she had dropped. A long moment had passed after she had come and gone and the presence was still there. He decided to hold his tongue in calling Mokuba out in the most miniscule of instances he was wrong, and waited to see if he would come in.

There was another shuffle and he was gone. Kaiba found it in himself to smirk and puff the smallest chuckle as he finally got over himself enough to take that first sip of coffee, perhaps at the fact that he was still, at least in the eyes of someone, the head honcho of the house.

He arrived at the office forty minutes later than usual. His stoic visage dropped just the slightest as he glanced around wary, as if those who passed by him could hear his thoughts, before he smugly recalled the line of Ian McKeller's character in "Lord of the Ring's",

' _A Wizard is never late, nor is he early. He arrives precisely when he means too_.'

He had never related so closely to a quote in his entire life. Not that he would ever, ever admit it to Mokuba after categorizing it as such an exaggeratedly hyped commercialized production sham that he was initially shamed into watching. That opinion wouldn't change.

Now that his fun for the day was out of the way he went about going to the first of three meetings he had scheduled. Then he went about his bi-weekly rounds of the basement-level labs to follow up on his scheduled supervision on the recent multi-production of his new video game demo. He made sure to don his jacket before he took the security-cleared plummet to the ground levels of the corporate building where it was thirty degrees cooler and bustling with even more employees in white, glossy with linoleum floors, and the air heavy with the bitter stench of soldered iron and nickel.

With his long, precise fingers itching with that familiar yearning to get in intimate contact with his mounted technology, he went to the main computer reserved strictly for executive initialization and let them take over, chronologically shifting through the through major mechanics to see if those bugs had been fixed. Of course he didn't appear to be having any kind of reaction remote to fun when he did these things. First and foremost, it was unprofessional. Secondly he didn't particularly find joy, in his opinion, in such a simplistic stimulation of the right side of the brain, and thirdly, final tests were always handed down to Mokuba for seal of approval.

He stalked about the perimeter of the laboratories on the highest bunker and watched below at the long lines of programmers hustling to sift through every single mechanic with matching serious, practiced ease, and inquired around among the other superiors about their progress. He internally sighed when they once again delivered on the regular two-inch thick folder of spreadsheet records and based on glancing at the first page's summary alone, he was already mentally calculating figures that were lower than what he was expecting, which made him frown even deeper than he already had been.

Without a word or the slightest regard for what the head supervisor was spewing, he extracted himself and broodingly rode back up to the top level with his newest disappointment clutched in his hand. He wasn't sure why it bothered him, but he was sure the programmers had gone back to smiling at their screens as they did their work after he left. It wasn't as though he hadn't considered himself stiff a few times and that his staff was simply mirroring him because that was what he expected of them. It should be considered a sign of positivity and harmony working under him and happiness from programming a game they enjoyed, that the overall public would enjoy, rather than being the miserable stereotype buried underneath piles of work and locked in "the basement".

Not motivated enough to stand from the glass freezing through the back of his jacket, he sighed as the elevator ascended from the depths of the laboratories and the sun was visible behind him again. He stared at the blurred reflection of himself in the steel doors until they split open. Fully intent on locking himself away in his office to file and crunch these new numbers for discrepancies, he almost didn't hear his secretary calling for his attention.

"What?" he snapped.

"Sorry to disturb you sir, but Mr. Pegasus is awaiting your pick up on line four."

"Great," he voiced both internally and aloud just the same.

He entered his office and tossed the file down, causing the sheets inside to haphazardly skew and careen off the edge of his desk. He growled as he watched the spreadsheets float everywhere into a sea behind it, including in his office chair. He threw those aside and sat down and glanced to the phone to find the dial by 'Line 4' flashing red. He picked it up and paged his secretary's desk, "Send someone in here to clean up this mess," and picked up line four. "What do you want, Pegasus?"

"Now there's a cheerful voice I haven't heard in a _long_ time."

"Cut the wasteful pleasantries Pegasus, I have packed-tight schedule today."

"As do I. Who do you think coined the saying ' _time is money_ ' Kaiba-boy—?"

"Benjamin Franklin."

"Which is why I cut out time especially for you."

He rolled his eyes. "Is this another pitiful attempt at a pitch for another collaboration?" he asked waking up his many desktop monitors. "Because I already told you no."

"Come Kaiba, don't be so stiff." He rolled his eyes at that. "Can't old friends just call each other up to catch up? Maybe set up an invite over a simple glass of wine—"

"You have five seconds to verify your purpose before I hang up."

"Hm, testy today, aren't we? Alright." Kaiba could practically see Pegasus taking his time in indulging himself in a glass of wine as they spoke. "I do have a preposition for you."

Kaiba impatiently tapped his fingers as the door opened and didn't spare a glance at the custodial man in the uniformed, black jumpsuit as he left his supplies at the door and showed himself behind his desk and began gathering the fallen documents.

"I want to propose a partnership. For my newest platform of sensory, three-dimensional holographic technology."

' _Done it,_ ' he snorted extra haughtily at hearing his brimming confidence. ' _Already processed to be patented._ '

"It's bound to be a hit. I just need the promotional means of assistance to kick it off. And with the dreamiest of dream team combinations of your ingenuity and my genius, sales will explode. All you would simply have to do is sign off your permission for me to borrow a few of your lackeys and your impeccable insight, and in exchange I'll give you thirty percent ownership and thirty eight percent profit."

"Are you out of you mind?" he all but bellowed. "You think I would ever sign over a portion of my integral personnel just to invest in your little project? Not to mention having to work in collaboration with you won't cover the humiliation in having to publically agree to sharing credit with such a desperate has-been."

There was a chuckle heard on the other side. "You wound me, Kaiba. Always so painfully independent. I've been keeping an eye on your figures just as much as you have, I'm sure. You could always use the extra revenue."

Kaiba grit his teeth and held a ripple of fabric from his slacks tightly between his nails. "I don't know what you're implying Pegasus, but I see nothing more than a two-point-quarter percent drop."

"Oh! You don't miss a beat Kaiba-boy, surely you're more aware of your surroundings than I first thought. Of course I expected you to play coy with me. Hm. Are you sure your pristine collective patterns can afford such a blow?"

"Company figures fluctuate all the time Pegasus and we both know I'm certainly not sweating a mere two percent. You're not using your outdated snowballing debt tactics to get me to sell myself over. I'm leagues past such rookie mistakes."

"' _Every dog has its day_ ,' as you so delicately put."

His eyes narrowed. "What are you talking about?"

"Just reciting a mere quote of infamy, Kaiba," he said just as airily as anything the entire call. "Foreshadowing, if you will."

He could practically see Pegasus lounging in his chair across from him in his own desk with his legs crossed and manicured nails level with his eyes. "Lay off the damn alcohol, Pegasus." He slammed the receiver and put his hands to his temple as he relaxed back into his chair.

' _Man's almost as annoying as…_ ' His gaze absently coasted to the left where the custodial man had left the collected documents neatly tucked away back into its file. He glanced at his reflections in the three computer monitors one respectively after another, then to the spot on his desk where the framed picture of Mokuba used to be.

On a completely unrelated topic, he really was proud of how much Mokuba had grown, and with such grace too. More than he would ever accredit himself to at his age. It seemed like only yesterday that he was lashing and thrashing out at bullies trying to beat up on his little brother. Looking back and remembering himself as such a ruffian wasn't the most appealing thought in the world, but it was personally one of the most satisfying.

His phone gave a single ring and the dial next to 'Line 1' flashed red. Kaiba sighed as he sat up and picked it from the receiver. "Kaiba."

"Yes Mr. Kaiba, how are you?" greeted a female voice.

"I'm fine, state your business."

There was a brief beat of awkward silence before she went on, "Y-yes, well, sorry to disturb you at work, but we have a bit of a situation here."

"Situation?"

"It's Mokuba."

~ K ~

Kaiba didn't give himself the time to take a proper breath just as his previous therapist had advised—not told him for the sake of his blood pressure—to do as he turned off the ignition to his midnight Corvette in Domino High's parking lot.

He had to give himself a refresher of where the administration office was as he approached the building. It wasn't his first choice of schools to send Mokuba to, didn't even graze his top five, but Mokuba had insisted. Kaiba had agreed only under the premise of assigning him a private tutor to deepen his practices and gear him for college-level material beyond his advanced classes, which he seemed more than ready to agree to. He was the brother of a genius after all.

He was fully aware of Mokuba's presence besides him as he passed him just inside the office door and instantly locked eyes with the sheepish secretary, who jumped. "G-good afternoon, Mr. Kaiba…"

"What's the meaning of this?"

She straightened her posture and adjusted her glasses. "The thing is, as I've told you…today Mokuba was part of an altercation in the cafeteria this afternoon, among a pretty good handful of other boys."

"Mokuba?" he deadpanned. "Are you sure?"

"Rest assured Mr. Kaiba, I was just as surprised as you are. It has however been made a point by Principle Stein that he be suspended for three days."

Kaiba at last made an attempt to stabilize his peaking frustration with a deep breath as his eyebrow began to twitch. "Alright. I'll take him off your hands," he tried to relay as politely as possible. Mokuba was hesitantly in tow as he strode out of the office.

He could feel Mokuba sneaking glances at him once they were back in the car, more than likely noticing that he was taking them back to his office. Nevertheless he had no intention of letting his face show anything to hint at the amusement starting to roll around in little waves in his head. He found a strange solace in letting Mokuba sit and squirm. Like things were back to the way they were meant to be, even if only for a moment.

He had planned to last the entirety of the ride in silence, when Mokuba cleared his throat. He minutely glanced to him to find he hadn't intended to get his attention to speak to him, but Kaiba did notice that he looked particularly crestfallen.

It was becoming harder and harder for him to separate his want to disregard the adolescent boy in him that hadn't completely faded yet and the hormonal teenager he was just awaiting to break out and slap him in the face full-force with.

' _…into an early grave,_ ' he relayed to himself in the mocking tone of his ex-therapist as he took another breath in one more attempt to calm his heart rate again.

"Well?" he asked.

"Well what?" Mokuba mumbled to his lap.

"Talk." Nothing. He sighed. "Did you at least kick his ass or what?" he said flicking up his blinker and turning at an intersection.

Mokuba put his hand to his mouth to hold back a snicker. "Learned from the best, didn't I?" he said looking out the window, and just like that, seemed at ease with himself again. For a second. When he realized what street they were on he nearly jumped from his seat as he turned to the windshield and seemed to instantly focus on a man standing on the same corner they were approaching and his brother, as he could have predicted, was doing his part to ignore him.

Mokuba dug around for his wallet and extracted a twenty dollar bill. "Could you give this to him?"

Kaiba looked over and straight into Mokuba's eyes-which he swore seemed to shine with a mirage of unshed tears-intent on saying no, but the next moment he slid the window down and hung his arm down the outside, smartly tapping the door of the car. The man looked over and Kaiba lifted the unfolded bill in his hand, with as much of the bill extending from his fingers as possible. The man took it and thanked him, bowing his head in gratitude just before they sped off and let the wind briefly whip their hair around in the stillness of the car.

"Thanks."

Kaiba shrugged as the wind abruptly died down from behind the rising glass. "It was your money."


	3. Chapter 3

Insecure

~ Chapter 3 ~

"So I want to remind all of you that we're in this class to be open and to learn how to apply this material to use in your everyday life, your mentality, community you frequent in, whatever, blah, blah, blah. So, before we go any further, I want to make clear that this is designated as a safe space. Okay? There will be no haggling, no sassing, no blocking, no bad vibes, no wrong answers—no wrong anything as long as you refrain from being narrow-minded.

Mind that we get into some pretty deep shit in this class, alright? Literally. So this class may not be everyone's cup of tea. Some material may be triggering for some people, and that's completely understandable. I definitely won't force any of you, but if you're particularly worried or are easily squeamish or offended, this class isn't going to be for you. Alright? Not to scare you. But those individuals should look to drop this class—just looking out for your best interests here."

The instructor looked around to gauge the faces in the lecture hall with an encouraging smile spreading behind the microphone she held in her hand. "Come on, cheer up! Some of you look a bit…euh—but I'm sure you guys, the majority of you anyway, have some pretty thick skin. Some…vast capacity of openness. So now, who wants to learn about sex?"

"Yeah!" a lone voice yelled from the back of the lecture hall.

"That's the spirt!"

"Bravo," Tristan said, "greatest intro ever."

"Think she'll do a demonstration?" Joey asked.

"For my sake? One can only hope." Tristian sighed.

"…so basically in this class you're going to get horny…" she went on.

"Don't know if that's a clutch selling-point or not…"

Joey had to bite back a laugh. "So you might leave class with blue balls, huh? S'no different than two years ago then."

"Back when I was a horny teenager…" He let out a deep breath. "Talk about a throwback."

"Bitch, you're a horny, legal quote on quote 'adult' in a teenage body and you haven't grown none. Still holding backpacks over your front like we're still in Domino's halls because old habits die hard, m' I right?" He nudged him. "Huh? That's really why you still carry those messenger bags. Style, convenience my ass. Y'know what, just do that before every class, alright? Hold it on your lap. Save me the trouble of guessing."

Tristan scoffed. "I will if you will."

Joey scoffed back. "I can control my "situations" pretty well, thank you. If living with me hasn't taught you nothin', it should be that."

"I don't pay the slightest bit of attention to your dick Joey, and good riddance. You know that's one thing living with you actually pays well on, you're less maintenance than a chick…" he paused, seemingly unable to tack on anything else. "Almost. Most of the time anyways."

"Wow. Well now Diana feels offended. I suggest you apologize."

"Who the hell is Diana?"

"It's the name we gave her, remember?" he said glancing to his crotch. "Such important milestones in our brotherhood must be remembered, Tris'."

"I don't remember that shit."

"Yeah we we're probably shit-faced. Probably listening t' Michael Jackson or something, hell I don't even remember if it was Diana, coulda been Sheila for all I know. Hm. Is that the kind of name people would pay tribute to?"

"I'm not paying any kind of tribute to your junk!" he said much louder than he meant to. A few people glanced behind them and Tristan had went red while Joey cracked up in the seat next to him. "Great, now they're gonna think we're queers."

Joey forced himself to stop. "I'd watch that word if I were you. I heard some people get pretty sensitive around that word."

"Yeah well, not my problem. I ain't a queer."

A beat of silence passed between them just as the instructor asked a question and the room remained unresponsive. "You know what Yug' would say if he were here, right?"

"Like he would set foot in this class."

"Touché."

"And I won't tolerate excessive chatter," they heard in a slightly more elevated tone. That shut them right up, evoking chills and sparking flashbacks. "Please respect other people's right to be able to hear what's going on. People in front of you can hear you pretty clearly, I know from experience, and all of you are terrible whisperers. Don't even try to convince yourselves for a second that you are."

"I'll talk when I wanna talk, lady." Joey swore the moment it came out of his mouth, the instructor looked straight at him in the middle of her sweeping scan of the lecture hall. He awkwardly raised his hand in apology.

"Man, what a great class," Tristan said stretching as they filed out, but Joey wasn't listening. A blond girl in solid black yoga pants, pinch-apple cheeks and a red windbreaker and the infamous "can-I-see-your-manager?" bob style haircut had caught his attention, only to perform such a gesture at him that it baffled him to a degree of stillness. That he had quite literally froze in the middle of the rush of arguably stampeding people.

She had done something he could only describe in layman terms as "un-smiling". She had "un-smiled" at him. Meaning that she had literally took the smile she had directed at another person, turned to him, and instantly sucked it back into the stiff, undisclosed realm of her face. It halted his thought process for a moment because it caused his mind to reel back pretty far from anything remote to what he had thought about in a long time. He wasn't able to attest to many people doing that to him. Only one person came close. Which was inane to say about a person who essentially never smiled.

He shook his head. He was being paranoid. She wasn't even his type anyway, he had convinced himself. Didn't even look like she ever went to the gym other than for the sole purpose of taking falsely gratifying Instagram selfies, which he simply did not condone. There were special places in hell for people like them.

The invisible force of the crowd behind him pushed him forward and almost into Tristan. "Hey, watch it. What did I tell you about looking both ways before creepin' on someone?"

"But I wasn't—" He blinked up at him, when it hit him, like a cool rush to the face. He thought of him, of Kaiba's stoic expression in place of that girl's depicted with his blue eyes and all, and shook it away. It was eerie to say the least. ' _Euh, at least I don't think I was…_ '

"Well, I'm starving," he said once again ignoring Joey's recurring dazedness. "Think you could sneak me something during my next class? It's just around the corner and I'm gonna be sitting on my ass for the next three hours."

"Yeah. No problem."

Tristan gave him a shove and Joey wandered off along with the wave of the crowd. He ended up following the girl for a bit before they finally went their separate ways and he took down Mainstreet, seeming to come back to a more conscious state of mind and picking up his feet.

He was on his way down to he and Tristan's regular burger joint and caught sight of a scruffy, overgrown man in rags of dirt-colored brown plaid and ripped, washed out black sitting on a spot of cardboard on the outer edge of the sidewalk slouching against a lamppost. He was asleep.

"Hey, Ernie?" Joey lightly nudged him with his foot.

He jerked up with a start, looking a bit dazed. "Oh. Hey Joes," he said roughly, scratching his beard.

Joey sat down next to him, not caring if his long legs were somewhat blocking the flow of traffic. Or about the dirty looks he was getting. "How goes today's haul?"

He coughed. "Not so good so far. But I ain't fretting."

Joey disguised his slight grimace behind a little smile. From what he knew Ernesto wasn't that up in years, but he spoke like he was a forty-year Alabamian pioneer smoker who had phlegm constantly caught in his jugular. It was to the point where he sounded like it hurt whenever he spoke. "Yeah well…it ain't much, but," he dug in his pockets and grasped a small handful of change and deposited it into his scarce jar.

"Thanks, Joe. But what I meant was I'm waitin' on my daily customer."

He raised a brow. "Daily customer?"

"Yeah." He closed his eyes. "One a those rich Beverly Hill kids from uptown, comes by these parts often, but he ain't spoiled rotten like the rest of 'em, no. I can tell. God rest his soul."

"But…I mean he's still walkin' this earth, right?"

"Oh, yeah—you know how I throw my words around an' such. I mean well." He sighed. "God bless him."

"How many spoiled Beverly brats are there?" he snorted more to himself.

"You'd be surprised. Not many that would even look twice at a gangrene scene like me, tell you that much." He nodded. "Be surprised how many cars come by that have to be worth more than the whole damn highway overpass."

He exasperatedly threw his head back and sighed. "Wouldn't be surprised if they were all owned by the same guy…"

He didn't have hardly a moment to harp on it anymore as Ernesto conjured a wounded noise and Joey looked just in time to see his hand starting to gnarl up, knowing he was having another cramp. "I can feel it, Joe. Another storm's lookin' to settle in."

"I know. I saw it on the news but we have a few days."

"No, no. They're wrong. And when it hits…it's gonna be a long one. I can feel it. I should get back to my regular post. Gotta rotate—"

He put his hand on his shoulder. "No. You stay here, it's closer to your shelter. I don't want you going way far out then have your muscles cramp in on you, then you won't be able to go anywhere."

"The boy gave me enough so I could finally get that pain medicine I needed. I can just take it and ride out the storm."

"No, you save that for when you really need it. Don't worry about it man, I got you covered. I was coming down here to get somethin' for me an' Tristan to snack on. I'll get you something."

He remained motionless against the lamppost as Joey awaited his response. "God bless you, kid," he said just above a whisper.

"I have another class but the minute it rains I want you back in that shelter, you hear me? I'll be out here on the dot, don't you worry." He began to stand.

"Alright. You know where t' find me."

"I'll be back soon."

~ J ~

Forty-five minutes later and half starving, Joey was back on the opposite side of campus slipping through the back entrance to his closing class for the day, a professional internship prep course Téa had bullied him into taking with her. "For his own good," she had said. Speaking of Téa, Joey spotted her sitting by herself at one of the sideway facing tables running along the perimeter of the classroom. Once again, none too kindly, he found himself comparing her to a certain person behind her laptop with her blue eyes deeply concentrated and hair slicked back to a tapered point at the base of her neck, almost as if it were wet.

He shook his head. What was with him today?

When he approached her he waved his hand in front of her face. "Was good, Té?"

She balled her hands into fists on either side of her laptop. "Joey, my name is literally only three letters," she ground between her teeth.

"So was really good?" He dodged a swift backhand aimed at his face and slid around the table, seating himself next to her. "Whoo, someone's mighty testy today. Still waiting for an answer?"

"He hasn't messaged me back yet. Why?"

"'Cause you look annoyed as hell, like you're thinkin' about spitting in some asshole's coffee. That's why I never get stop in when you're on the clock."

"At least you're aware of the extent of your own presence."

"Oh cry me a river, you can handle watching the Minions movie on a loop for ten hours, sing that godforsaken sin of a banana song with your cousins over the phone but you can't handle me sayin' hi to you?"

"Joey, I'm stressed and I have a borderline migraine, for the love of Ra please shut up. I have a 300-character Chinese composition to finish and I just found out my baby fourteen year old cousin is pregnant. Through a text. She's in her Second trimester already!"

He raised a brow, having not a clue as to what a trimester was. "Already? Damn."

"Really, that's your gut-reaction?" She sighed. "With twins. Oh god…"

"Baby daddy's got some tough swimmers, give 'em that." He tried to ward off the fiery glare she was currently arming, singeing through his skull. "Well, what's the deal? She's still living at home, right?"

"Fortunately her parents can't find it in themselves to banish her and kick her out. No matter how outrageously pissed they apparently are. I swear, I'm always the last one to hear anything!"

"Well no Aunt Flo paying monthly visits from hell as you guys say, right?" She gave him a look that was unimpressed to the say the least. "I do have a sister y'know."

"I swear, why do I tell you anything?"

"So _I'm_ not the last one to hear. Anyway, when's class start again?"

"He's seventeen, Joey. Seventeen. How does a fourteen year old girl lay down with a sleazeball about to graduate? I can't believe he trapped her with twins." She dabbed a finger to her eye. "Her life's over. I'm too young to be a…I don't even know what I'd be to them. It isn't about me. I haven't seen her in so long. She was about eleven last time I saw her. Hair still in pigtails. I can't imagine what she's planning to do with them."

It wasn't often that anyone saw Téa cry, let alone in a public setting. So Joey took the cue to immediately cut the bullshit, even if only for a moment. "Shh, it's fine, okay? It's alright." He guided her head to his shoulder. "You can call her up after class an' check up on her, hell you can skip out if you want. Nobody's gonna miss you for one day. If you're worried about your attendance I can sign in for you."

"No, Joey, no." She took a deep breath and pushed off. "I'm fine. Really."

"Better yet, go see her."

"I'd have to catch a plane. Plus I'm not sure if I could even handle seeing her the way she is."

"Tell you what, I'll do you one even better. I'll call my sister up, we'll have a slumber party at mom's, ice cream for dinner, meatloaf for dessert, plus it'll fill my visit quota for the month. Whoa, three birds with one stone." He nodded. "Good job, me."

She gave a little smirk and turned toward the front. "You're a terrible son."

He shrugged. "I try. She could do worse."

"Want to grab some coffee after this?"

"You buying? If you're gonna be responsible for keeping me up all night, at least pay for it."

"It's only four o'clock. I'll buy, cheapskate."

"It's not called being cheap, it's called being broke honey. Being cheap is a privilege granted to those who have money. Mm, those bars." He snickered as she rolled her tongue about her mouth and tapped her fingers.

"You know you might be able to snag more than one hook up a month if you got a sustainable job."

"Yes Té, I know, that's _'the purpose of taking this class,_ ' remember?" he said a bit tersely. "I already work my ass off, just give me my damn internship."

"That's not the way it works, Joey," she half-laughed.

At the end of the day after spending a good two hours with Téa, Joey returned to his and Tristan's apartment and jumped onto the couch ready to relax. Tristan wasn't home. He turned on the television to find that the cable had been kicked out. "Damn."

So he had reduced himself to hooking up the antennae again to watch basic television and surfed until he was stopped by a colorful program with furry, animated puppets, which he recognized as Sesame Street. So he cradled a couch cushion to his chest and prepared himself to tune in for an hour of some critical and advanced education (as today's word of the day was 'unanimous' with celebrity guest star LL Cool J which was a word he hardly knew now, nevermind when he was six).

' _Feelin' old yet, much?_ '

"I'm feelin' it, whoo. Havin' major flashbacks here."

He watched until they came to Usher's ABC segment, where an embarrassing leap featured in his chest. He actually favored Usher way more than he would ever care to admit to anyone. Especially Tristan. Like he was going to willingly go through the ridicule when he could simply withdraw himself from it, and he hadn't listened to him in a while because of it.

After a few seconds of watching he rushed to recall some of his other music, some of his favorites. It wasn't however a favorable memory of him dancing in his room eight years ago, blasting the stuff. Alone, mind you. And terribly, if he could add, lip syncing his lyrics because he couldn't sing for shit according to his sister. But in the moment it had made him happy. What didn't was when he was being truthful with judgmental people about him being the true, avid, skinny white fanboy that he was. Still is. Tristan, even after knowing him so for so long, as far as he knew had no clue. He had learned from his mistakes early on, thank god. Téa, Serenity and his father were the only people who knew, not excluding Yugi for fear that he would ridicule him for it or even care.

His father had been oblivious to it for the longest even after all of the various shades, home concerts, posters and wanting to buzz all of his hair off phase, but he had a little Man-crush going. It was still embarrassing as he reminded himself of his treasured ' _Confessions_ ' CD that had been played too many times for him to count and autographed ' _Here I Stand_ ' album he had been yearning after since the day it had dropped and had gotten for his thirteenth birthday, that still remained unopened and among his other mementos in its own little box of shame. It still made him smile though. Despite how weird it felt to smile about it out in the open, even alone. Didn't change the suppressed giddiness he felt circling his stomach either.

He switched the television off. He listened. He heard some cars whiz past outside, a horn, and the slight rumbling of thunder. He looked outside, which was darkening to a sludgy gray instead of a familiar indigo to mark the dusk. He reeled the fantasy of him breaking out his laptop and blasting some tunes while he was alone back into the lonely shell with him and went to change his clothes before heading out into the impending storm.


	4. Chapter 4

Insecure

~ Chapter 4 ~

' _Mokuba… Mokie?_ '

"Mm, yeah, Steph?" he said snuggling into the soft mounds of her chest.

' _I love my puppy. Thank you so much for getting him for me._ '

"Yeah? I love you too…"

' _My puppy, silly._ ' She smacked his shoulder before cradling him to her chest again.

He pulled on her arm, sliding down to her hand and folding his fingers between hers. "So do you forgive me?"

She smiled, parted her lips and, "Master?" came out.

He hadn't expected that. "Mm yeah, call me 'Master'…" he purred.

"Master Mokuba?"

He frowned. "What's up with your—"

There was a short blasting of noise in his ear and he scrambled over the edge of his bed onto his back, biting his lip as he struck the tender spot on his shoulder. He angrily flipped his legs from over his head and sat up.

"What the—"

"Sir, eldest Master Kaiba requests your presence in his study," Roland said just as casually as ever.

He huffed in and out knowing what Roland was hiding behind his back. He glared at his alarm clock. "It's three after five in the morning," he said.

"Indeed, sir."

After a minute he stood and swiped his eyes. "Alright, go away, I'm up, I'm going." He let out a pained breath after Roland left, annoyed that he had left the door open after him. He took his time yawning and shuffling down the long hall to his brother's study, whose door was cracked open and waiting for him. He entered to see him sitting idly at his desk as if he were watching the door for him and gave Mokuba a onceover, who quickly tried to flatten his undoubtedly wild bedhead.

He quietly cleared his throat in that familiar mocking manner of his. "What are you doing?"

"What do you mean, Roland freaking woke me up…"

"Get dressed. You're coming to headquarters with me. We leave t-minus eight minutes."

His eyes widened in the middle of stretching. "What? You couldn't have told me this yesterday?"

"Did you seriously think I was just going to let you sleep in bed all day?"

' _Of course not…_ ' He should have known better.

"Well? Hurry up. If you quit dragging your feet you might be able to get in one of those famed two-minute showers." He stood with his briefcase. "Seven minutes or you can ride by yourself."

Mokuba kept his eye level to him as he rose. "I'll take it if it means I can take a proper shower."

"You can either ride with me or risk morning traffic and you know what the penalty is for being late. Your call."

He sighed. "Man am I glad I don't work for you," he said as he went back to his room with a bit more urgency in his step. "Roland, lay out my clothes," he said in no particular direction.

"Of course, sir," he heard promptly behind him as he entered the bathroom. The infamous curling in his stomach was still ever-so-present as Roland readily obeyed him.

~ M ~

He had left him a pressed pair of navy blue slacks and a white button-down on top of a matching blazer and lastly, a tie. He emerged from the shower toweling what moisture he could from his head as he assessed his half-woken reflection in the mirror on top of his bureau, actively ignoring the bruise starting to show through his shoulder. He didn't have time to fuss over it. He had two and a half minutes to get ready. Stomping around his room barefoot with his lower half dressed, he stopped to flip his head down, scrubbed his fingers from roots to ends and flipped his hair back, smoothing what he could to the side into a low ponytail over his tender shoulder.

It briefly flashed in his mind, much to his chagrin, how he much he was bound to look like a miniature, much less coordinated version of his brother as he almost tripped down the stairs with half of his blazer on and his tie hanging undone around his neck.

' _He better not have left without me…_ '

He was a hair away from outright swearing when he rushed outside to find the driveway deserted. He exhaled and his entire body deflated as he just went back inside. If he was going to be late, he might as well at least go in with some type of breakfast in his system.

Despite what his brother had insisted time and time again about Kaiba Corp. being impossible to infiltrate, it went in one ear and out the other for Mokuba. He chuckled to himself as he walked four blocks worth around the building with the key to it all hanging embedded in the card shaped locket tucked around his neck. If it were true, Mokuba wouldn't be the Vice President. He took pride in his eidetic memory, being something his brother apparently lacked, and knew the building almost as well as his brother did considering his "limited" exposure. There was a much less frequented entrance around the rear of the building that only he and his brother had access to and as far as he knew, he never used it. He stood still as the door scanned for his signal and smiled as he was cleared through, and it instantly fell as he met his cross-armed brother on the other side.

"You think I didn't know about this entrance?"

He smirked at Mokuba's appearance. His hair had darkened a section on his shoulder and although his buttons were otherwise straight, shirt was tucked and slacks appeared crisp, his tie was very loosely fastened around his neck. He jerked a thumb over his shoulder and Mokuba hesitantly brushed past him as if he were wary of him contemplating hitting him on the back of his head like he had seen some of his friend's parents and siblings do, except this time he wouldn't find it funny.

In the office he sat down at the shorter end of his brother's desk, whose size rivaled a decent family's dinner table, and was set up with translating a very bare _bare_ minimum program he had stripped and prepared for him to code by hand while he relaxed back in his chair with his stereotypical newspaper.

Mokuba swore he was doing it just to antagonize him. You would think this was just a regular everyday thing for him, but his brother never read the newspaper. Ever. No matter how much of an old man he was at heart. It made Mokuba's teeth grit as he manually converted every '0', every '1' bit by bit until his brain began to radiate and spin and he swore he was beginning to age in his very chair. If there was anything Mokuba couldn't stand it was staring at repetitious sequences of numbers like these and trying to wrap his head around it all made him a little queasy.

"How much longer? I've been at this for hours and my head hurts."

"Mokuba, it hasn't been twenty minutes."

He glared at the clock on the wall. "That clock is lies, all lies!"

His brother flipped his newspaper down with his forefingers. "Excuse me?"

"Sorry, 'That clock is telling a lie'," he said in a slightly gaudy voice. "Metaphorically of course…"

Kaiba snorted, lifting the print back to his eyes. "Should have caught up with me before I left."

Mokuba sighed and went back to work. "I almost died this morning."

"I'm sure."

"Roland nearly choked me with this." He held up his tie even though his brother wouldn't bother to see it.

"I can't imagine why when you know how to tie a tie, Mokuba."

"Oh, but he insisted. He all but hung me with it."

"He would only intervene if you were looking positively incompetent with that thing, which you shouldn't. It's a simple skill you have to master Mokuba. You should know how to tie a tie with the same ease and muscle memory as tying your shoes."

"Hm. Or I could just resort to a clip on and your Battle City get up with those dominatrix boots. _Nothing_ else could pull those off. Nothing. And easy too, buckles."

Kaiba sighed as he turned a page. After a moment he asked, "What is a dominatrix, Mokuba?"

He remained silent. He really didn't know specifically, but he could fathom an educated enough guess. It made him blush a bit. Maybe he should be more careful about repeating everything he heard like a three-year-old. Nevertheless, he wasn't going to make himself look any stupider at his own expense or dare to throw out the incredibly crude joke of Gozaboro's name that had came to mind.

"Someone who rents out your boots for a busy Saturday evening," he tried to say smartly and without an impending question behind it.

"You have until nine to get that done then I need you out. I have a phone conference."

Pause.

"I can be quiet."

"No you can't."

Pause.

"Okay." And he didn't say another word until he was done and his brother had kicked him out.

He went down to the labs as he was instructed too, to proof-check the new gaming program his brother had so modestly discussed with him, as neutral as could be. His posture was stiff as he walked the long way to the elevator in an attempt to clear his head of the circling numbers and the bubbling hostility he just couldn't bother himself with right now. He carried on with a tight chest and slouched against the railing just before the elevator made its decent. He watched the downward rolling reflection of the city's skyline behind him in the steel doors. His gaze lowered as he kept dropping. Then a bit more.

There was a distinct ringing upcoming in his ears the further he went. He could hear it echoing. It was pushed aside and overcome by some annoying song catching in his head again. That same song. That same damned song. He tried to think of something else, anything else. Instead of focusing on the new game he was supposed to be excited to test, he chose to think of the bruise on his shoulder which was starting to pulse again. He fidgeted. It was getting pretty angry. He couldn't keep ignoring it.

' _Steph…_ '

He sighed. School had started an hour and a half ago. He wondered how she had started her morning. With a smile on her face? Restless? Had she had breakfast? Maybe some yogurt and granola?

 _Ding_

Was she still upset? He stepped off. He was avidly greeted by every single employee who could make themselves available as he strode around in a similar fashion not unlike his brother had done just the day before. People became more wary, the greetings fell off and they steered out of his way. He caught himself and stopped. He quickly forced a smile on his face, waved back to a few of them and burst into a slight jog towards the head supervisor.

"Hey, Johnathan." He gave him an awkward high five with his left hand. Yes, he knew it was lame, but it was their thing.

"Mr. Kaiba," he said not looking up from his clipboard.

He frowned. "I told you—"

"Yes, Mokuba, sorry," he said distractedly. He shot him a quick smile. "Your brother has briefed us on what you will be doing today. It's nearly ready. Trust you'll be heading up to the testing room—"

"Gaming lounge—"

"—and proceed to…thoroughly observe Mr. Kaiba's newest program."

"If I pass out in front of it, you know what to do."

"I'll give it the green light, pass go, the whole shebang…" he said as he flipped a page.

"That's right," he said with a bit sarcasm. "Any other word from him?"

"Not that I know of."

"So in other words I just get to binge for the rest of the day? Great. So what's the rest of your day looking like?"

"Well as of ten minutes ago I have a maintenance check to do on the upper floor for supposed crashes in subcategories 1B and 4C—probably just an intern laden mishap—nothing I can't handle. Then just choreograph the servers for you, and reconnect basically all the boring technical stuff you don't have to worry about. A conference, piece a cake."

"I would tag along but I have to ask that you come and take a load off, sir. Help me 'test'?"

He chuckled. "I think I'll keep my job, sir."

He had expected such an answer. "I'll leave you to it then."

He climbed the metal staircase to the upmost floor to the sound-proof room high above and secluded in its own sector. He sat by comfortably on the white leather sofa, leg crossed over his knee while everything booted up for him. He double checked his setup, linear and tailored to his "process". This seemed to be the life. Going to the most influential, most powerful business in the entire country, arguably the entire world, getting dressed up just to sit around and play awesome video games for hours? The little perks of being Vice President.

Ten minutes into it, Mokuba paused the gameplay to jot down another note on the pad on his immediate left. ' _Thank god I'm ambidextrous…_ '

His phone vibrated from inside his blazer jacket. He went to lift his right arm and quickly backed out, remembering the piece was on his left, and switched over the channel for his Bluetooth earpiece and picked it up. "Hey Iz."

"Dude, why didn't you tell me you got suspended?!"

Mokuba gave a full-bodied cringe and nearly threw the earpiece across the room. "…It's not like I planned on it."

"How could you leave me like this? You know I need to be prepared when these things happen so I can plan accordingly!"

He sighed, slouching back on the couch. "I assume you heard what happened?"

"All I heard was that you got jumped, dude. By a senior. A bunch of seniors. What the hell did you do for them to sic the big dogs on you?"

~M~

Mokuba was walking down the hall, mind astutely focused on getting to his locker, when he saw who he was approaching. It was her.

Stephanie Moore. The prettiest, most intelligent, exotic specimen Mokuba had ever laid eyes on. The girl who knew he existed but didn't think to acknowledge it.

He watched her at the edge of her circle from across the hall, leaning against the wall and tapping away on her phone. He had actually never talked to her before. Half of last year and two weeks into this one had already gone by and Mokuba was still standing by like a sitting duck while she went about her life without a care in the world for him. He only knew her through the conversations she had with her friends and other classmates that all came before him. Through them he would find that they had a lot in common. He often analyzed their interest in game shows or 'Big Bang Theory'.

' _Leonard and Penny…_ '

Or watching her shake her head like he would when someone botched an answer to an obviously easy question.

' _Why are we surrounded by idiots you and I? We should just leave all this behind and…get a dog somewhere…._ '

The time he overheard she was part Irish.

' _I could get into Irish-stepdancing, learn to play the bagpipes. Wear a kilt. Can't be too cultured…_ '

Or gawking at the new color of her nail polish.

' _I love blue too…_ '

Watching her lazily gazing at her desk when she was doodling in her notebook.

' _Ooooohh goooood…_ '

Very intellectual.

He snapped out of it long enough to reach for his combination lock and spun it by pure muscle memory just as she offhandedly smiled at a girl who passed her. She looked like she wanted to keep to herself today more than usual, but she was still so nice to everyone.

He also had a feeling that she was feeling…bold today? Something about her appearance. She was wearing a sleeveless, bright yellow sundress and white vans to further celebrate the lingering Summer weather. She also had a penchant for bracelets, and her arms were laden with them. But what had caught his attention the most was her hair. Today it was up and proudly bushing in a decently sized light brown afro-style ponytail at the top of her head, which was something she rarely did. He genuinely wondered about that. Was she in a particular mood today because of the unexpected weather? Was it a special day? Did she have someone else do it for her? Did it go best with her outfit? He didn't know. All that was willing to process coherently through his head was,

' _Yes, Steph. You look so lovely today._ ' He turned away as she straightened from the wall and shuddered as she passed him. He could smell a light citrus scent. Usually she smelled of a certain cotton candy perfume she often raved about.

Was he being creepy noticing all of this stuff? He rested his forehead against the locker. ' _Get a grip, Kai—_ '

"Kaiba!"

"What? Oh, hey Iz." He rested his head back on his locker.

"What's wrong with you?"

"Just tired…" He faked a yawn and hastily fluttered his lips.

"Ok…well, I'm getting picked up."

"What? Why?"

"I'm not 'feeling well'."

Mokuba squinted at him.

"'Not feeling well', get it?" He paused. "I'm going to see the Reds, man."

He groaned. "Oh god…"

"You know it's my Unc's tradition, come on, don't give me that. You could always come with me. We could take another joy ride that fancy-shmancy car of yours."

"My brother would have a cow."

He shrugged. "Barbeque it."

Mokuba rolled his eyes. "Whatever, have fun. See you tomorrow."

Izzy nudged him as he turned and walked away.

"I hope they lose," he said under his breath. The bell rung and he secured his locker before heading off to class.

He sat through art, among fifteen other students on the short, wooden stools he hated. He didn't particularly care for art. The teacher was kind of loopy and the lectures of art history bored him. And looking at it just didn't seem to make him tick. It was one of the few things he would claim to be simply mediocre at. What he did like about it was that he didn't have to necessarily be in a conscious state of mind when he partook in it, or perhaps that he could still get a good grade on something he considered crap. His teacher had simply told him on one occasion that his view was just "different".

The conversation drifted from shadows to the oppositions on the color wheel to mediums to images of a painting and a clay figurine of an African bass drum, to music and banging on the tables to make makeshift beats. Mokuba just sat through it trying not to pay it any mind as others began to hype and shout around him as class came to a close. If Izzy had been there it probably wouldn't have been that bad, but without him present or Stephanie around as his muse he failed to find any sort of pleasure from this bell.

He thought of her again. Painting a portrait of her, just as he saw her today, sitting on the stool across from her. Asking her to pose for him. Just plainly and naturally, nothing else but her and her natural beauty. With a Renaissance-esque backdrop of water color to enhance the brightness of her dress and her lips, her smile.

He was jostled by the person next to him as they rushed for the door and he picked up his things to head for his locker and then to lunch. When he entered the hallway he was greeted by more raucous noise. People were still high on the hype from class and banging rhythmically on the lockers. There was music playing on top of all the banging that Mokuba didn't recognize at first. The majority of what these students listened to was all whiny, unintelligible noise to him, but this was beyond that. This was worse, much worse.

It was some sort of rap song. The nearest group of darker skinned classmates he knew who were playing it out loud from one of their cellphones were singing it. They bound together for the upcoming chorus which really ground into his nerves.

" _This_ is what people listen to?" Mokuba mumbled in aghast as he walked down the hall. "This is what's making those artists money?" And apparently dancing was just as simple as caressing a curvature in the air and throwing imaginary spice into an invisible pot. What had their generation descended into?

"I know. Where our tax dollars are going and the like, right?" There was a tsk and the person shook their head.

Mokuba almost responded when he realized who had spoken to him. There she was, Stephanie, right next to him and talking to him as if they were walking together. He stumbled a little and she went on ahead. He braced himself and jogged to catch up and cleared his throat. "So you agree with me?"

"Um, yeah," she said clutching a book to her chest. "We're all being taken advantage of and brainwashed to buy and support their stuff. It's an insult to our intelligence that they can say literally whatever they want and it'll sell, but, I'm just rambling…"

"No, I feel the same way, yeah. It's…just ignorant, am I right?"

She gave the slightest pause and Mokuba was internally petrified that he had already dropped the ball. "Initially, yeah," she said. "Misdirection of talent."

"Yes, yes, not for lack of talent, sure." His heart was starting to thump. He took a breath and as if coming back to earth, the banging had mercilessly assaulted his ears again as if he had tuned back in only to find it had never stopped. He glanced over in disgust as his eardrums began to pang.

"Are all their people so ignorant?" he practically spat. A look of dread paled his face as he realized he had said that out loud. This time she had stopped.

"'Their people'?" she asked.

"I-I meant—"

"So you're categorizing us saying 'we're' all uncultured, savage and stupid because of what some of us listen to?"

"No, I—"

"You're just a racist prick! I swear it's people like you that make some of us act the way we do."

"Well it's hard to argue logic like that when this's all I see from them every day, don't you think?" ' _Stop talking Kaiba…_ '

She frowned. "I heard you were a nice guy."

Mokuba's heart dropped harder than a sinking stone.

"And then you spew this racism out at me? Just shows how all rich people are, am I right?" She angrily pushed past him and he noticed everything in the hall had quieted down and people were staring.

' _Sh…crapbaskets. Damn it!_ ' He was so frustrated with himself he could have kicked something, but he ignored the others and promptly went on his way to the cafeteria before people could have the chance to hound him.

He went to the office to pick up his lunch Roland had dropped off for him before sulking off to the cafeteria. Since Izzy wasn't there for his other co-friends to flock around, he sat at one of the corner tables alone. He unwrapped his favorite freshly made deli sandwich combination; smoked swiss, honey turkey, crisp lettuce, tomato, Dijon mustard and mayo on whole wheat, but he couldn't eat more than half. Every time he looked up and saw Stephanie sitting on the side with the other girls, his stomach turned. She wasn't talking to them. She sat still and quiet, nibbling on her pizza. He wished he could share his sandwich with her.

Her friends finished their lunches and left the table to throw away their trash and go to the vending machine together. Mokuba seized the opportunity to get up and practically catapult himself to the table. Stephanie's eyes were down and it was only until she had seen his shadow casting over her that she looked up and said, "What do you want? Leave me alone."

"I just wanted to apo—"

"Go away!"

Mokuba nervously bit his tongue, hardening his expression a bit. "Listen, I wasn't trying to be rude or mean to you—or to anybody, I was just… I just have a strong opinion about that kind of music. I just don't like it. It's too…" He tried to find a word to sub in for 'eccentric'. "Too offensive, you know?"

She gave him a strange look that he could only recognize as scrutinizing, not unlike one his brother would give. She was trying to see through him and Mokuba was afraid she might misinterpret his hasty panic as a half-assed kissing up attempt when he was genuinely trying to make amends.

He rushed to say something, anything else. His eyes darted up and fell upon her crinkly and puffy light brown hair. "Like your hair. I mean it's pretty…and um, different. But that's just not my style—the music I mean—"

She gasped and gaped at him. Mokuba watched with an inexplicable amount of interest as her multicolor eyes welled and quivered until she finally jumped from her seat and rushed out of the cafeteria. It wasn't until she was up and bound that he made to call after her that he hadn't meant it the way it sounded. He groaned. He didn't know she was prone to being so sensitive. Maybe that was why she liked to keep more to herself.

"Hey, rich kid!" Mokuba turned around only to be shoved back by broad hands that belonged to a boy with slightly fairer skin than those in the raucous groups from before who was roughly twice his size.

"That's the kid who was talking smack," another said behind him.

"You messin' with my sister?" he demanded. "Huh?"

Before he could get a word in all he could remember was being pushed again, into a table, and more people clouding around them ready to intervene, when he clenched his fist and threw the first punch. A crack straight in his jaw. It all very quickly turned into one big dog-pile with he and this guy rolling over each other in the middle of it all, fairly evenly matched if Mokuba pushed himself hard enough. It ended quite abruptly however when he was struggling to stand and a chair aimed for his head narrowly missed and smashed squarely into his right shoulder as security came through and broke everything up.

~M~

"Ouch. You okay?"

"Spectacular." It was starting to flare up again, the worst it's ever been. Mokuba merely grit his teeth and tried to ride it out again.

"You need a filter, man."

"It was an accident, I didn't know what I was saying. I wasn't insulting her or… her race, I was just insulting their music."

He sighed. "Well listen, I have to go. We just pulled up to the planetarium. Call you later?"

"Sure," he deadpanned. They said goodbye and hung up. "Not even noon and I already need a nap…and like fifteen Tylenol, god."


	5. Chapter 5

Insecure

~ Chapter 5 ~

His 'n's were backwards. The 'g's were crooked. Grammatical errors in three of his bullet entries. This was comparable to the work of a five-year old and it irked Kaiba's meticulous brain immensely to read.

' _Mokuba is dominantly right-handed_ ', he reminded himself as his brow began to twitch.

It was a mystery. It was only a hunch before, but Kaiba was definitely perceivable enough to recognize any fluctuations in Mokuba's behavior as per usual. Or in this case, his handwriting. Compared to what he usually gave him, this was chicken scratch. Once again he knew something was wrong and Mokuba refused to tell him what it was. He just knew it had something to do with whatever had happened at school but knew better than to pry uninvited knowing it would be a waste of breath. So instead he thought about the little things he could do that might help.

He decided that he could simply get him one of those decadent Frappuccinos he knew he snuck around to drink even though he knew Kaiba didn't fully approve. He might be a bit bouncy, but dealing with a happy, chatty, whiny, slightly noisy Mokuba was better than seeing him mope around with an expression almost as solemn as his.

By the end of the first day when he saw Mokuba again, it was now to the point where Kaiba could tell he was in pain. By the next morning when he clumsily fumbled with a mug with his left hand, breaking it, right arm dangling helplessly at his side, he could tell where the pain was coming from. By the time the next day was over, Mokuba was openly making faces and shifting around in obvious discomfort.

Kaiba only asked him once if something was wrong, and as expected, he received this answer; "It's nothing."

The following morning, Mokuba refused to get out of bed. He had told Roland so. Roland told him so and Kaiba went to wake him up instead. He found him cringing again, in the bathroom, where he had burst in on him after hearing pained, albeit quiet, cries through the door.

Kaiba forced him to sit down so he could get a look, foolishly by the injured shoulder in the rush, and Mokuba practically crashed into his chest, sobbing. He could feel the lump and a startling gap of empty space through his shirt when he had pushed him and was almost willing to go as far as to carry Mokuba back to bed before calling urgently for a nurse.

So now his brother was in a sling with a swollen, dislocated shoulder he was positive he was partially if not fully at fault for.

He wanted to punch something, he was so angry. He was hardly mad at Mokuba for not telling him, he was furious with the kid who had done it. And with himself. As he blindly cracked his knuckles—which was something he thought he'd never do with his seemingly delicate fingers—and his neck, he thought about going up to the school, only slightly deterred that Mokuba had smartly omitted the kid's name when he rehashed what had happened. Just as well too, he supposed. For the kid.

He was Seto Kaiba. If he really, truly wanted to know, he could find out. And Mokuba knew it. But his reluctance was as good as a plea to stay out of it. He hoped for the kid's sake that he never found out who he was and never happened to run into him after he walked across that stage. He may never walk again.

He went into work late for the second time that week. He locked himself straight away in his office. On a whim he decided to do a little bit of catch up research on America's recent VR technology, finding crosses between their clunky, simplistic helmet designs and his astronomical, futuristic technology. He had been meaning to do this for nearly two years now.

He urgently began sketching out plans for the new headset. He rode his development committee raw to pitch him proposals for the new, scheduled segment for the game two weeks before it was due. He shot down every single one. He locked himself back in his office and worked on the headset some more. He tossed away forty-seven different sketches in three hours. He continued to whittle down the size until the front half was suppressed into a slim, form-fitting mask, similar in form to one worn in drama, pitch black, opaque, and envisioned to be made with a coating of Gorilla glass.

Once he had a plausible enough of a rough sketch done he took a lift down to the lower bunker below the basement and to his former virtual reality pod system. He wandered in echoic silence around and in-between the chambers. Every bit of data from the previous programming had been terminated. Since he, his brother and Yugi and the others had been trapped within it he was sure to make the necessary adjustments and precautions to ensure something like that would never happen again, though even he himself rarely used it after that. He was sure Mokuba still had an obvious apprehension for these contraptions ever since.

Not for the first time he thought about programming a model of himself into it. Not a character of fiction or another exaggeration of a perfect being or a hypothetical gender-bend, himself. His true self. A slightly less stoic model preferably, if it could be done. He would hope it might make Mokuba feel more at ease when he couldn't be there versus wandering completely alone in any other virtual world he may create in the future. He was sure he wouldn't appreciate it the same as he would.

' _What am I saying? He isn't a kid anymore. He can't keep finding comfort in me…_ '

He kept matter-of-factly repeating this same message over and over again in his head.

He went to the switch at the edge of the wall from where he came in and turned down the lights. He took off his coat, even though it was freezing, and sat on the floor in the middle of the room and stared at the lightly dusted pods in front of him. He looked up to the middle, to the console, to the start-up generator, to the main breaker. All he essentially had to do was sit still for a body scan, push a button, and he could just slip away for an hour or two. Into nothingness.

He was so tempted to go.

~ K ~

He made sure to head home an hour earlier than usual. He drove in silence. On his way he got Mokuba that Frappuccino he told himself that he wanted. He got nothing for himself. If he were paying attention to caring for himself at any time throughout the day, he still wouldn't have noticed he hadn't eaten anything, much less his morning coffee he inadvertently craved even at this hour.

A rumble came quietly to his ears from the outside of his car. He turned and drove for another block or so when he noticed a cluster of exceptionally sludgy, gray clouds hanging conspicuously amongst the overcast sky.

' _Great, more rain_ ,' he thought with the most enthusiasm he had attributed to anything all day.

Not a moment after that, it started to pour. Kaiba instantly felt a nasty shiver wring his body. After a while of brooding, he pulled up next to a guy at the stop light on the curb, standing with a leg propped up against the lamppost with an umbrella. The umbrella hid nearly his entire upper body from view. It was quite large. They were also quite close to one another, so much so Kaiba considered switching lanes to ensure he wouldn't scratch his car, but he couldn't. He was caged in. On top of it all traffic just suddenly decided to pick up to render himself immobile at this intersection and was going insanely slow. So at the moment, he was stuck. Kaiba sighed and flicked up his blinker, though sapped of any emotion aside of tiredness.

Even though he tried again to ignore him, seeing him in his peripheral, Kaiba could remember how muddied and ripped his sneakers were as he pulled up. As well as his jeans, torn at the hem and frayed in places. The foot that was on the ground stood on a water-marked, water damaged cardboard sign.

Then, on the second whim that day, without looking away from the road, he scowled and chastely reached into the console next to him and broke open his wallet. He shifted a bill from the top of the clip inside and rolled the window down no more than two inches. As if on instinct, the stranger peeked out from underneath his umbrella.

"Thank you—" The man froze. So did Kaiba. The both of their hands conjoined by either side of Ulysses Grant's head.

Kaiba took one look at him and fleetingly humored the idea that he might legitimately pass out. He couldn't take the bill back, he couldn't let go, he couldn't move, and the fact that he felt obligated to say something before he did either one of these things compromised his decision. His throat went dry and he could feel his blood pressure beginning to spike. This was the closest thing he had felt akin to panic for the second time that week. For the second time that day.

The longer he stared at him, the more he came to realize; ' _Those shoes looked familiar…_ '

The water careening down the curve of his umbrella was pouring over his window in a steady, drippy curtain, into his car, and he could see how shocked the other's eyes were. He imagined his were grudgingly the same.

Those shoes looked familiar. All through high school he wore the same pair of shoes, every day. He kept them for four years? How did he know it was four? Kaiba took a deep breath, unmoving, unblinking.

By the time he realized traffic had started to move, the bill had nearly been soaked through. Kaiba let go.

As Kaiba put his attention back forward and slowly drove off, his head started to spin. He cleared his throat. He made a turn. A couple more. He coughed, and it came out a bit jittery. And he drove straight until he couldn't resist it anymore. He couldn't fight it. There was no point in trying to, he was alone. It was darkening outside, he wouldn't be seen. His lips began to tremble. He set up his blinker, pulled over on the side of the road, and propped his head against the steering wheel. His shoulders shook. And just when he couldn't hold it back anymore, he burst.

Out laughing.

He burst out laughing. Legitimately laughing. Full-blown crude, but smile nonetheless on his face, laughing. Practically rolling around in his car, laughing. Hand running down his face. Laughing. Laughing until his stomach pained. Laughing until tears brimmed at his eyes. Laughing, for nearly four whole minutes until he had enough and was tired of hearing himself. He couldn't remember the last time he had laughed so hard, if he even ever had, and the thought made him chuckle some more as he relaxed and finally forced himself to stop.

He looked at himself in his rear-view mirror and laughed again. He was psychotic. At that moment all he could think about was how ironic it was so see Wheeler on the street after speculating in his head over and over again for years that this was exactly where he was going to end up. It was more or less meant to be taken or left as a distasteful joke but a small part of him actually thought, at least with the better combination of company he kept, that he would be able to treat himself to a decent roof over his head. Or at least be proud (and or stubborn enough) to not resort to begging for money on the streets.

He closed his eyes in an almost cringe as he laughed again.

' _This is too fucking much. This isn't real. This can't be real. This is a joke, right?_ ' He palmed his face and at last got a firm grip on himself, sitting with his new thoughts for a moment.

' _Wheeler. On the street. Begging for money?_ '

It just didn't sound…right. As much as he couldn't deny seeing it with his own eyes, if he was honest with himself (which he was going to avoid like the plague) he didn't want to believe it. For once he didn't want to be right and he had no idea why he even cared. Homelessness wasn't necessarily something he would jump to wish on someone, not even Wheeler, but he accredited it all to laziness and poor moral belief that one doesn't need to try to get by in his own life, which was all life was. Which sounded like classic Wheeler to him.

' _His luck finally ran out._ ' That was the last thing he thought before he drove off again. That gave him something new to pester his mind about the rest of the way home.

When he arrived home, Mokuba, who seemed to be having a late snack in the kitchen for once, seemed surprised to see him.

He blinked a few times, unmoving, then looked around to the maid as if to confirm that he was seeing him properly. "What's up? You're home early."

"Wanted the cook to make something. That is what I'm paying him for."

He slid the Frappuccino over the counter into the crook of Mokuba's slung arm. His eyes widened. "What's this?"

"For you."

"You got me coffee?"

"The most watered down sugar-fest they could give me. I'd save the majority for after dinner. Or even tomorrow…" Once again, in his head, he cursed himself.

Mokuba plunged his straw clumsily around the cinnamon infused whipped cream before eagerly taking a drag. "Holy moly these are good."

Kaiba sneered, more to himself. "Don't make it a habit."

"Says the dealer." He smirked as he took another careful sip. "Mm, Gingerbread. How was work?"

"Same."

"Do anything special?"

He unceremoniously thought back to the VR pods. "No."

"Did ya miss me down at the office?"

"Heh…" He sneered again, at Mokuba this time.

"Keep telling you your face is going to stick like that if you're not careful."

"Nothing your humor won't fix, isn't it?" he said lifting open his briefcase on the island countertop, blocking Mokuba's face from view.

"So, what do you want for dinner?" he asked.

"I doubt it'll matter. What do you want?"

Mokuba thought for a moment. "Mmm… Homestyle hamburgers would be good. We don't get to eat those too often."

"You're going to get fat. I'd prefer something you could eat with one hand. Don't expect me to feed you," he tried to relay as consciously and with as good humor as possible.

"I can feed myself, jerk."

He tried to ignore the obvious sting meant behind his words. Mokuba looked irritated again. Kaiba felt like apologizing again, but knew it would only come out much more grating and obligational than anything he would have wanted it to sound. He bit back a scowl instead.

"Masters, Kaiba?" the maid interjected, bowing deeply. "Might I suggest curry instead? Chef Toi's Beef Panang is a well-known dish he is famous for."

"…Sounds good," Mokuba said. "Excuse me." He swiveled on his barstool and hopped down, exiting the kitchen. Kaiba sensed his presence leave the room. He dropped whatever files he had blindly buried his fingers in and hastily closed his briefcase after a moment, knowing he had no real reason for doing so in the first place.

Mokuba didn't come back down until dinner was being plated and didn't say anything aside from "Thank you," to the chef who personally sat his plate in front of him. Kaiba sat beside him at the head of the exceptionally long dinner table, the lingering empty seats imposing with the presence of hypothetical, ghostly guests. The idea of hosting them all in his place of peace made his stomach turn.

"Your suspension's over starting Monday," he said breaking the silence.

"Yeah. So?"

"Are you going to tell me the real reason why you got suspended?"

"I have a dislocated shoulder and you doubt me for getting into a fight when you've had constant surveillance over me the last two days?"

"No. I just don't believe the reasoning."

"Figures." He began to pick at his food. Kaiba knew that was a sign he was contemplating lying to him. After a while he said, "I really try to keep it one-hundred with you, Seto. I really do."

"More lingo I should be hip on?"

"It's hardly…" He sighed. "I said something I shouldn't have—something the guy didn't agree with—and I got hit for it. Simple."

"Hmph. Is that really all it takes?"

"If it were you, you'd…" Mokuba seemed to think twice about what he was going to say and stopped eating altogether. He sighed again.

Kaiba eyed him over his next bite of food. "You're a Kaiba. If anything that should hold far more merit over what he disagrees with."

"Well this time it didn't. I'm not you."

' _No, you're not…_ '

Mokuba suddenly perked, amused. He laughed a little. "I'm a Kaiba," he said almost disbelievingly with a roll of his eyes. "We're not the Mafia…" His smile faltered. "…anymore."

They finished the rest of their meal in silence.

Kaiba knew the minute he and Mokuba went upstairs and parted ways, they wouldn't be seeing each other for the rest of the night. It was only twenty past the hour of eight, which meant Kaiba had more time to work before he ultimately tired and crashed. Hopefully in a much more dignified and upright position this time if the extreme unfortunately presented itself.

Three hours passed with him tinkering away in his office, with his tie and the usual untouched small glass of Bourbon besides him on his desk. Then as he took one of his regular deep breaths, it hit him like a warm wave. He was tired. He genuinely felt tired. He left everything on his desk as it was and went to his room, a ways down the hall in the opposite direction of Mokuba's. The house was quiet. The help was undoubtedly still up and about on the lower levels and Kaiba wouldn't have been able to tell. Just the way he liked it.

He untucked his shirt. He unbuttoned the cuffs, his collar and down the middle to let his knotted chest breathe. He unfastened his belt. He reached the foot of his bed and turned around to collapse on his back, his shirt settling splayed out at his waist.

As his vision blurred with sleepiness, he remembered Mokuba. He wasn't the keeper of his bedtime on the weekends, but he thought he should make his regular round to check on him before he fell asleep. He never thought he would have to worry about being too sleepy to at least be able to do that. No matter how adamant he was about putting his reactivating mind at ease, his body refused to move. A minute later, at last, he struggled to sit up using his arms as a weak support. Instead of getting up again thinking he hardly had the strength to sit upright, he thought about who he had seen today.

' _Wheeler…_ '

That of all things was the first to come to his mind. Not of Mokuba crying in pain in the bathroom that morning, not crushing each other's hand when the pain was too much, not of how wired he must be after all of that sugar he had bought for him, Wheeler. Not even the depressing episode in the VR room came first.

All of their brittle lore and whatever history that had ever existed between the two of them had been yanked from the recesses of his mind, had the heavy coating of dust blown off of it and it all flashed before his eyes in an unpleasant rush the same as it had just hours ago.

Maybe it was the shock in his eyes. The shock at being seen by someone he had some kind of personal vendetta against after years and in the most humiliating scenario he could probably be put in… The fact that he wasn't the only one who had problems to deal with. At this moment, drained of any reserve to put towards any kind of mental shield or bravado he could put up, this was the closest he could get to feeling "empathy" for someone else's problems. Even if it was Wheeler.

' _What is he spending that money on?_ ' he wondered.

He furrowed his brow and without even realizing it, he had his back to his bed again, ready to sleep.

"Seto?"

Kaiba inhaled a start and quickly jerked upright. "What's wrong?"

Mokuba was peeking around the corner through a crack in the door. "Nothing, I just…came to check in. Making sure you were in bed and not asleep at your desk."

"What, are you going to tuck me in?" he grumbled, laying back down.

"I'll leave you alone then." He closed the door after him.

Still drowsy and now more reassured, Kaiba was ready to try again to drift back off to sleep, when his door opened again.

"The guy was looking out for his sister, if that makes sense." he said quietly. It was almost a whisper, but it still carried over to him.

Kaiba's eyes snapped open. He laid there, staring at the ceiling as his door closed again, in a small huff he could sense, having adding a whole new plethora of questions to the ones already piling in his head. They blocked any and every hope of sound sleep for him that night.


	6. Chapter 6

Insecure

~ Chapter 6 ~

Joey shot up out of bed to the sound of a thrilling tongue and crisp, ear-ringing claps.

"Whoop, whoop! Ándale, ándale, ándale my darlings, mi hijo," he heard by his ear as he burrowed back into bed. "Time to get up! Time to start the day, mi angelita! Up, up, up!" he heard distantly out in the hall on the way to his sister's room followed by two more brisk claps. He groaned quietly, briefly noting that before he went back under that Téa was up and about from the chair she had made refuge in the night before, only to shoot up again, this time courtesy of a shrill whistle that shocked his left ear.

"Argh! Suz—" He balled up his sheets and bolted out of bed, his sweaty feet slipping on the carpet. He caught either side of the doorframe before he tore around the corner and looked left and right, not finding the mischievous imp in either direction. He peeked around the corner and next door into his into his sister's confectionary cotton candy fluff exhibition of a room, who was sitting up in bed looking just as sleepy-eyed and annoyed as he was, but he couldn't see the culprit anywhere in there with her.

Joey didn't bother going back to bed this time.

He drug his feet to the living room and Suzanna practically skipped after him from Serenity's room, swiftly kissing his mother on the cheek as Joey's glare followed after her.

"Thank you," his mother said with an obviously smug undertone as she beat a bowl of pancake batter in the crook of her elbow. "For sweet Jesus, boy, put a shirt on. There are women in the house, not to mention that one's a guest."

"No need to worry about _that_ , Ms. Wheeler," he heard from behind her. Téa peeked from around the wall into the living room no doubt to get a look at Joey's irked face, and briefly snickered. "Although to be fair, he would have hauled in here the minute we started cooking."

"It's good to get the bones moving and blood flowing a bit before you nourish yourself," Suzanna said with an opening, stretching gesture as she re-entered the room. "It ensures to spread the love to every inch of your body. I do at least ten minutes of stretching every morning before I allow myself to indulge in Jane's heart-filled breakfast."

"Yes, because I'm sure water and Aunt Jemima's plenty heart-filled…" Téa was next to him in a matter of seconds and hit him on the back of the head. "Ah!" He gaped at her and froze with his hands shielding the spot she hit. "What was that for?!"

"That's for bad-mouthing your mom's cooking."

"No need for all of that darling, I'm sure he didn't mean it the way it sounded." Although she shot him a look of warning as she went back into the kitchen.

"You are such a kiss ass," he mouthed.

Téa stuck her tongue out at him. Suzanna bounced back to kiss him on the forehead and Serenity came out from her room, messy hair and all in a bun and in her short pink pajamas, and kissed him on the cheek before sitting at the table.

Joey was practically steaming right now, red in the face. "Frickin'…females," he muttered.

Téa and Serenity set the table and they all linked hands as Suzanna led them in a short prayer to bless the food. "Jane!"

"Coming!"

"Suzie, can you pass the syrup?" Serenity asked.

"So…" his mother began, eyeing from him across the table. "You still haven't put a shirt on, huh?" she said before taking a bite of bacon.

"My nips aren't bothering anyone, Ma. Besides, it's less laundry."

"Because you do so much at your place, right?"

"Exactly."

She took a few more bites. "So, how's about a trip to the mall this afternoon?"

"Uhh…" He glanced minutely over at Téa. "I was going to hang out with Yugi and Tristan later on. Té too, if she wants to come," he said with a less than graceful jerk of his head to signal to her.

"Weren't we going to the mall?" Téa asked.

"Well yeah, but…" He was trying to signal to his mother with his eyes.

"We could get you a new haircut, you're overdue for one. They have these newer styles that would actually better flatter the size of your head."

He sighed. "Nice shot at my self-esteem, Ma. Hardly felt a thing."

"Maybe if I bought you a new shirt you would wear it. By the way dear, what he was trying to tell you is that he hates shopping with me."

"No Ma, I don't…I love your…shopping."

"You're such a painful liar, Joey."

"Yeah well, y-you should be grateful for that!" he spluttered red in the face as he shoveled down the rest of his food.

She stood with her plate. "When you're done, if you don't mind, could you please clear out the sink? I'd appreciate it."

"Hey, ain't I supposed to be the guest?"

"Sugarplum and Toothfairy are the guests. You're family."

"Your son comes to visit out of the good of his own heart and you make him do the dishes?"

"Yes."

He sighed and looked helplessly over to his sister as Suzanna followed after her. "When we get to the mall, you wanna come with us?"

"My friend Jamie's coming over later. You guys go on ahead."

"…This is a _girl_ Jamie, right?"

"Joey!"

"I have to ask—it could end up like a Leslie or…god-forbid a Sam situation again."

"You're killing me and it isn't even ten o'clock yet…" Serenity said putting her fingers to her temples.

Téa looked back and forth between the two of them. "…What-?"

"I'm just sayin' she has some androgynous lookin' friends and I ain't afraid to ask questions, that's all I'm sayin'."

She briefly gaped at him then closed her mouth again. "Joey, that's rude."

"I'm not trying to be rude, I'm trying to be aware of who's running in and outta this place."

"Do I ask who's running in and out of your apartment?" Serenity rhetorically asked. "No."

"And more power to ya—you know Tristan lives with me. That's reason enough not to ask."

Serenity sat there for a moment and Joey could begrudgingly see her eyes beginning to swell. She hurried to stand and left the room.

Téa sighed. "Did you really have to say that?"

"Come on, quit being so dramatic. Y'know there's no way it'd work out anyway. It isn't gonna happen."

She rolled her eyes. "She still obviously has a crush on him. You don't just go on and tell her that."

"Well, I felt she needed to hear it. Not the first time I've told her. No need to lie to her and get her hopes up to dream about stuff that _isn't gonna happen_ ," he stiffly stressed.

"A teenage girl's soul is fragile, Joey," she said airily, making to follow her.

Joey frowned at the table. He heard Téa knock on Serenity's door and let herself in. She closed it after her.

Joey went do the dishes like his mother asked, not before he scavenged whatever food was left over, and decided to take a shower. The apartment was an illusionistic type of quiet with an elevated, lively conversation coming through the walls from his mother's room with Suzanna's voice the main one being heard. On his way to the bathroom he could now hear that they were talking about a new television show they were currently gushing over.

He puffed a small chuckle. ' _Guess breakfast's got her in good spirits…_ '

"…no? Is it Tristan?" he heard to his left from Serenity's room.

"Forget Tristan, that ship has sailed. I just feel frustrated is all. Joey doesn't approve of any of my friends, god help them if it even _looks_ like we happen to have mismatching genitalia. It's embarrassing."

"Well, I mean, hypothetically interlocking that genitalia can potentially get you into some pretty hot water…"

"…Did Joey send you in here to talk to me?"

"No. Just speaking from experience. Anyway, if you have girl friends, if you have guy friends, so what? Eighty percent of the people I hang out with are male. I'm not walking around here with a problem—"

"And I've told him that! He just doesn't seem to trust anyone else, that's his problem."

"You're not living with him, Serenity. Don't put your brother on so high of a pedestal that you can't enjoy your own life. Especially now, your Senior year will be over before you know it. Take it and run."

"I just can't help it. I know it sounds childish, but he's been gone for good chunk of it. Know what I mean? I can't help but to take him in stride whenever I can. That's all I can do."

Joey felt his heart clench. He heard Téa sigh. "You really want Joey's approval that bad?"

Serenity didn't say anything back and he wasn't able to determine whether she had either nodded, shook her head, or just didn't have an answer.

"I mean, he's hardly here."

"I know he's hardly here anymore. Less than before. But I still miss him. I don't know. Maybe if he approved of at least one of them I could feel a little less worse about it."

Joey sighed and stepped away from the door. "Damn it."

~ J ~

"Aaaand Tristan. Always the last one to show, told you," Joey said as he held out his hand to Téa. "Where's my five?"

"I swear to GOD I'm never betting you on something so stupid again." She slapped a bill vengefully in his palm.

"You should've known it as well as I did. Right, Yug'?"

"Yeah, right, Joey." He smiled, much taller now and leaning against the railing and glass wall looking over the escalators, next to Téa. It faltered a bit when she looked over at him, turning into something more meek and nervous.

"You guys were betting on me?" Tristan said as he came up.

"No hard feelings, right? Oh yeah, last one who gets here pays for lunch, remember?"

"Are you kidding me?"

"Mom's got me today so, don't worry."

"Just get me a smoothie and we're good," Téa said as she put her hands in her pockets and they began to stroll. They didn't get very far before,

"Dad?"

Joey's father turned his head from looking up at a Chinese food menu. "Well, ain't this a hoot? Never thought you'd show your face again last time I creamed you in craps."

"Yeah, luckily we were only playing for nickels and dimes there."

"Saw your mother over there just a second ago. Didn't bother to say hi. How's your sister?"

"She's good."

"Haven't heard from her in a while. Where is she? At home?"

"She has company keeping her busy today. Wasn't cool enough to hang with us."

"Never thought an odd bunch of card-game playing groupies could be too cool for my daughter. Or enough to keep my vagabond son off the streets."

"We know you mean well and all Mr. Wheeler, but dang it still hurts man…" Tristan said clenching his chest.

"And you wonder where my charmin' sense a humor comes from…" Joey rolled his eyes.

"I won't lie, I'm happy for it an' all. I was just blindsided the hell out of it by it…"

"Not to mention that being marked third in the world books ya for some pretty sweet scholarships if you beg hard enough. Try payin' for my tuition out of pocket, I dare ya."

His father shook his head, Joey knowing it was once again the unimaginable mention of him being in college. "Who said gambling wasn't good for you?"

"It's hardly gamblin', Pops. And before you go on that it is just let it be clear again that I'm proud of you for slowly kicking the habit. Am I right?"

"When you're right…" he said mockingly. "So is Ren still on about that blasted car I promised her? I still haven't fixed it up for her yet."

"Uh Pops, you didn't promise her a car, you said you'd take her driving, remember? Months ago."

"Oh. Knew I was forgetting something. Can't you do it?"

"Who do you think I'm still waitin' on to teach me? Mom doesn't even have her license."

"Yeah, but her little girlfriend does, right?" he said a bit roughly glancing at her and Suzanna over his shoulder through the window of a clothing store.

Joey didn't feel like going into this with him right now. "Y'know what? Yeah, she does," he said as brightly as he could allow without being blatantly obvious. "You here by yourself?"

He sighed. "No I'm here with a lady friend of mine. She's holding seats for us. Oh—she doesn't know I have a kid so uh, might wanna scooch," he said looking back up at the menu and moving ahead in line.

"Fine, push one of your own kids away so you can—"

"Knew you'd understand. Good talk, kid."

"Love you too," Joey mumbled as he rejoined the group. He was a little embarrassed, but he honestly hadn't expected anything less from him.

"Well that was kind of rude," Yugi remarked.

"He means well. That's all I can say." He shrugged.

"I hope she saw us and asks about you," Téa said throwing a disapproving look at the back of his head.

"Who do you think he's here with?" Tristan asked looking into the thick crowd of people. Yugi, seemingly figuring out they weren't going anywhere until they singled someone out, sat idly by as Tristan and Téa looked around.

"Like you guys could pick her out," Joey said leaning on the railing once he figured it out as well.

"Well that was quick," Tristan said. "Found her."

Joey perked up not a moment later. "No way."

"She's looking dead at us."

Téa, Yugi and Joey looked over to see a middle-aged looking woman with a cardigan over her shoulders and curly, bushy dark brown hair that reached her shoulders, staring back at their group, then watched her eyes wandering over to Joey's father.

Tristan squinted at her. "Looks kind of like your m—"

"Great, he's dating within his age range. Can we go now?"

"You're not hungry, Joey?" Yugi asked as Joey started to walk away.

"I can stand to starve an hour or two. Had a big breakfast."

~ J ~

Joey returned to his apartment Sunday evening. He was hardly winded from his twenty-minute walk, he was more tired by the in-denial weather. It wasn't even showing signs of cooling down yet in the slightest in near future as far as the forecast had to say. He had never been looking more forward for Fall to come.

He was startled by some insistent meowing coming from the back of the apartment. Even through the walls, he could hear it.

He went back to his bedroom and set down his things. He opened his window facing the alley. "Are you guys okay?" He looked down to find seven kittens crowding around a larger gray ball of fur in a dingy, lined cardboard box, paws up on the brick wall. "You're just hungry. Okay…" He ducked back out and headed for the kitchen. "Mom's out, probably dry. They're going to need a bigger box soon…"

He prepared a special milk formula he had gotten from the pet store a few days ago. He had been buying the stuff for nearly two weeks in order to help out the mother. Using his logic with people, the more she had and the bigger they got, the harder it would be to feed all of them. He didn't know when they would finally take off to go off on their own. Probably never if he kept feeding them.

He got some solid food for the mother and went back to the window.

He reached down and, with difficulty, set the bowl of formula down in the corner of the box by the mother's tail, which didn't move. He set the chunk of tuna by the mother's head on the other side of the box and she didn't even lift her head. The bowl by her tail was one kitten short. The seventh kitten wasn't eating. It was nudging its head against its mother. His unmoving, limp, non-responsive when Joey whistled at it's, mother.

"Oh no…"

~ J ~

"When you said you had a job for me, this was hardly what I had in mind!" Yugi was panicking as the orange kitten slipped from between his fingers again into the inch-high water.

"What'd ya expect? Argh!" One of them splashed water in his face. "I ain't cut out for this single parenting!"

"So, do you have a plan?"

"What can I say, the little fuckers are trouble. And filthy as all hell. I can't take it much longer, Yugi, I can't."

"You have a plan, right?"

"I have ta…" Joey panted and stopped for a moment, bracing his hands from the bottom of the tub. "They can't stay here. Tristan's more fed up with 'em than me. It's…just too much. And…I'm not givin' 'em to a shelter," he said with a finite wave of his hand. "No way."

"Joey…I know you're doing the best you can, but—"

"Best I can, huh?" He blindly pet one of them as he looked straight at the shower wall. He yelped as one of them ran up his arm, leaving miniscule pricks from its claws.

"How many of them did you say there were?"

"One, two, three, four, five…"

"One's in the sink!"

"Six…Bengal's gone!"

"No, he's…" There was splashing from behind him and Yugi turned around to find the last one, "In the toilet!" He hurried and scooped him up, putting him back in the tub.

"Damn it, I just washed him. Remind me to tell my mom I'm sorry for being such a dirty little bastard…"

"At least there was only one of you at the time."

After they finally washed and dried all seven of them, Joey found a new box for them, the biggest one he could find. He ended up reconstructing an old one from a flattened air mattress box he had in his closet. They ended up playing a "Russian doll-style" puzzle with more stray boxes they found around the apartment and in the alley, layered them, and they put the kittens back inside and went down to the university.

"Are you sure about giving them away here?" Yugi asked.

"I don't want to take them far," he said looking down at them playing amongst themselves. "Could you go see if you could get a table?"

Yugi nodded and went ran to the Pavilion building straight ahead and disappeared inside. Joey sat down with the box. This was the most high-traffic area he could think of among the entire campus, but there was hardly any life. Next to Friday, Thursday's were usually the busiest, especially in the afternoon.

"Don't worry," he said to them. "You're all clean and we're going t' get you all—Ah!" One of them swatted his finger and scratched it. "Y'little bas—"

"Joey…?"

He jumped and immediately stood. He recognized that voice. He dreaded it almost as much as the brother's of whom it belonged to. "H-hey! If it ain't the little squirt! C'mere…" He briefly hooked Mokuba's head underneath his arm. He was surprised that he had hardly squirmed to get free. "Haven't seen you in forever—what in the blazes happened to you?" He instantly furrowed his brow at his slung arm.

"Oh yeah, that," his friend said walking up next to him. "He's been getting pretty popular at school…" Mokuba reached over and punched him in the arm with his good one.

"Well, that's no surprise." Joey looked him over warily, wondering if he should ask. He could pick up that Mokuba didn't seem like he was in the mood to talk about it. He also didn't seem particularly awkward or looking at him in a way that told him he knew about when Kaiba had seen him on the street last week, in the pouring rain accepting money from him, either. Maybe he hadn't told him. He breathed a sigh of relief figuring it was too much of an insignificant thing for him to even bother. "If you need me to bash a few heads together, don't hesitate to call me. So, what're you doing here? You graduate already like five years early? Lookin' to hang with the big kids now?"

"I'm just with Leon, he's visiting his brother. We were just passing through."

"What's in the box?" Leon asked.

"Oh, uh…" He rubbed the back of his neck and sighed. "See for yourself."

"Omigosh, kittens?" Leon immediately reached down and picked up a pure white one with green eyes and a black spot on its tail, blinking sleepily.

"Heh, named that one 'Blank'. Mind always seems t' be somewhere else… Thank god I don't name things for a living."

Mokuba walked up to the box and peered inside. "What are you doing with them?"

"Giving them away."

He looked up to him with a face half of shock, half of confusion. "You're just giving them away?"

"Yeah," he sighed. "The mother died a few days ago in the alley outside my window so I was kind of taking care of them. I felt responsible for 'em so, yeah, I'm overlookin' givin' 'em away."

"To complete strangers? How do you know they'll go to a good home?"

"I'm a pretty good judge of character. That's all I can do for them. I can't keep 'em."

"Why not give them to a shelter?"

He shook his head. "Just don't trust 'em, y'know? Some of them are crooked. I'll try to give them to people I know. Anyways, I just don't feel right in making unfortunate strays into a way to make money. It feels dirty. Besides, what better way to make someone's day than to say, "Hey, here's a free kitten!"?" He looked over at Leon again, gushing over another one. "Hey kid, if you want one, you got first pickings."

"Can I?" He smiled the biggest smile Joey had probably ever seen on a fifteen-year-old boy.

"You want two? I'd actually like it if I could keep some of them in pairs." He glanced minutely over at Mokuba, reminded of his situation with his brother. "Like me and Ren. We come in twos. It's not as lonely, y'know?"

He crossed his arms over his chest, thinking once again about what his sister had said.

' " _It's so embarrassing…"_ ' she had said. It still echoed in his head.

Above everything else, that was what bothered him the most. The last thing he wanted was for his only sister to be ashamed of him. He knew Kaiba had to have the tendency to embarrass Mokuba from time to time. More than just being Kaiba, he too was an older brother. He had more than enough opportunity and even more capacity to be over the top with anything—or everything—he did. Including being a parent.

For some reason thinking about that made Joey frown.

Not knowing when he would ever see him again, he considered asking Mokuba for his opinion, even if it would seem kind of random and out of context. But as he thought about it, he was beat to it by a quiet, almost cautious voice that had asked,

"…Could I pick one?"


	7. Chapter 7

Insecure

~ Chapter 7 ~

The first day back from his suspension, Mokuba found himself on the receiving end of a plethora of wary and dirty looks. Nearly everywhere he looked he found people staring at him and his slung arm, some in shock, some with smug looks on their faces, not sure whether it reminded them of how hardcore he was or how hard he had gotten it handed to him by that senior. Mokuba was pretty confident it wasn't the former. Luckily, Mokuba didn't see him that day.

He was channeling his inner Seto so intensely the next day, people parted way for him, with Izzy being the only one having the moxie to voluntarily go within two feet of him. He briefly registered passing the senior on his way to Biology, trying to pay him as little as mind as possible. He could hear him snickering as he passed, only to burst out laughing with what seemed like the entire hall when he had turned the corner. His stone face didn't waver for the rest of the day.

Izzy was the only one who stood by him. He even signed Mokuba's cast and decorated it for him. It was most likely the highest point the of the long week Mokuba had in store for him.

His classmates would often talk about him, getting the story twisted of how the fight had happened; some saying Mokuba climbed on the senior's back and tried and failed to body slam him and broke his arm, some saying the senior had thrown him into the far wall. No one dared to ask Mokuba his side, but they didn't seem to care all too much whether either story was true or not.

Stephanie wouldn't give him the time of day, as Mokuba had already expected in spades. She would often look very disgruntled whenever Mokuba glanced at her in one of the two classes they had together, as if she could feel him looking at her. Once he had gathered the courage and he had tried, one time, to speak with her. She diffused him and walked in the opposite direction faster than he could blink.

Thursday, Leon, one of his other friends, had finally come around to talk to him, which Mokuba was leery about. He had just as casually come up to him and invited him along to visit his brother, who had been asking about him he claimed, after school with him as if he hadn't been ignoring him for nearly four days. Mokuba supposed he could use another glimmer of hope to keep his mood somewhat afloat.

Just as he left Mokuba caught sight of the senior again in the hallways, this time walking in his direction with Stephanie.

Mokuba froze. He didn't want to go near him now that Stephanie was with him, but he couldn't keep up this one-sided game of cat and mouse. Izzy wasn't even with him, so there was no safety in numbers with him today. He took a deep breath, steeled his face, and didn't so much as glance at Stephanie or her brother as he swiftly made to pass them in the hall, the senior stopping to switch sides with her before knocking hard into Mokuba's injured shoulder.

He doubled over and fell to one of his knees, hardly able to bite back a yell. The senior scowled at him before walking off quickly, dragging Stephanie away. No one helped him.

It was now Friday.

Mokuba asked to go to the nurse's office during his Statistics class, only to come to a stop and stand before Stephanie's locker in the empty hallway.

Mokuba had enough. It was time to put a stop to this.

~ M ~

Mokuba peeked around the corner and saw Stephanie there, with her backpack ready to go home. She stopped. She looked over to the spot Mokuba asked her to meet him and a nervous twitch developed in her leg. She took a sharp turn and leaned against the wall at the side of the school's entrance.

Mokuba slowly started to walk towards her, trying to seem like he was looking to pass her, when he slowed in front of her. She took one look at him and took off in the opposite direction.

"Wait!"

"I figured it was you. Are you trying to get suspended again?"

"No, I just wanted to say sorry! Please," he said grasping her shoulder. He quickly let go, noticing she had abruptly stopped and turned to face him expectantly. "I want it to be clear that I in no way meant to offend you or to seem like I was…racist towards anyone." He couldn't help but to have a bit of a disbelieving undertone because the idea still sounded foreign to him. "I don't want rumors to keep spreading and have you think what I said, which was taken out of context, sums up what kind of person I am, because it doesn't."

Stephanie wouldn't even look him in the eye. She was still bouncing nervously and looking off to the side. "You know if my brother sees you talking to me, you're dead?"

"Come on, haven't I been punished enough? My arm is in a sling!"

"That's what you get when you spew racist trash at people. Just be glad."

"Glad?!"

"It could have ended a lot worse. I've seen things like this end a lot worse."

"So I get beat up for having an opinion about music—which you essentially agreed with by the way, and I misstep and say something the out of context and I can't redeem myself? Ever?"

"Most people don't usually have the balls to talk ever again when something gets broken."

Mokuba was losing her. He couldn't think of anything else to say that could change her mind. So, left with no other options, he went to his contingency plan. It made him cringe just thinking about it. He couldn't believe he was about to do this.

"Let me give you a ride home."

She blinked. "A ride?"

"It's the least I could do, making you stay behind…"

"I-in one of those limos you…"

"I could call a different car if it's too impo…if you don't want to attract any unnecessary attention."

"How do I know I can trust you? I can't just hop in the back of someone's car, I barely know you."

He sighed and looked around once more. The school had nearly cleared out. "I have no grudge or anything against you and I'm not a creep. I'm just trying to be nice."

She shook her head. "No."

"Okay. Okay. Well in any case…I still wanted to give you something."

"Gifts aren't going to—"

"Help what I said, I know, but I'm trying to show you…I'm not a bad person. Honest. Even if I can't change everyone else's opinion I at least want to make sure your…impression of me, the one I wronged, is right."

Stephanie fidgeted some more. She sighed. "Well what is it? What could you possibly plan to get me to buy my change of perspective? And why would you care?"

"Because I'm sick of being victimized and I'm trying to rectify my words mistook for racism, one person at a time if I have too. I know, it's ridiculous. I'm not trying to buy your change of heart, and I don't expect you to change your mind overnight or anything, I'm just looking for a chance, that's all I'm asking. Please."

She thoroughly twisted her lips, like she did whenever she was frustrated, it seemed. She sighed again. "What is it?"

"It's in my car, just that way." He pointed towards the front entrance, down a ways to the left. And without questioning, Stephanie followed him. He swallowed. He couldn't think about how close she was to him right now. How she was walking with him, just like before. He had to focus on his deliverance. He signaled to dismiss Mandel as they approached the back window by the curb before he could open his door.

Stephanie froze as soon as she saw the box through the open window. She looked back at him. "You got me a kitten?"

"Yup."

She stood there, gaping, as she stared at the sleeping ball of fur in the middle of a plush, white bed Mokuba had gotten for it. "I can't take this."

"I know it's a bit…well, it's a kitten, but—"

"I can't. My parents are allergic."

"I know, but—" His eyes widened in a panic. "I-I mean I didn't know, but…I heard that you like cats and…my friend was just giving them away."

She shook her head. "I'm sorry. I-I mean I appreciate the sentiment and…she?" she asked reaching to pet it.

"He."

"He's really cute, but…I can't."

Mokuba gathered up every nerve in his body, steeling himself. "What if I keep it," he began timidly, "and you can come visit it?"

"I can come visit it?" she asked.

"Uh-huh…" he tried to relay as airily as possible, rocking back and forth on his feet. He immediately stopped.

"Won't it be a little…weird? For me to come visit just for a cat?"

"That's yours. People come to visit me just to mooch my video games all the time. You could come over to do your homework or…we could maybe study after school one day and he could keep you company."

He was sure he was sweating bullets right about now.

"I don't think my brother would like that."

Mokuba kept his eyes to the ground. "I understand."

"I have a friend like you. She's pretty brash and says whatever's on her mind and people give her a lot of flack for it. But being candid is honestly one of her best qualities. I'm just guessing now it just fits into your personality too?"

"Unfortunately, it does." He shrugged, forgetting about his shoulder. He made a face. "Runs in the family."

"I can't believe my brother did that to you. I'm really, really sorry, I didn't know he'd… I feel so bad."

"Don't. That's just what brothers do," he tried to say as neutrally as possible.

"Have you ever…? You don't have a younger sibling, do you?"

"Uh, no, just the older one…"

"Well tell him I apologize on his behalf. I know he wasn't happy. I'm surprised we weren't sued or something considering what I've heard about him. My mom was freaking out a little."

Mokuba chuckled a little. "Yeah, me too. Well. The offer's still open, if you ever change your mind. Are you at least going to name him?"

Stephanie looked to the kitten again. "I don't know," she said playing with the paw swatting at her finger. "I'll think about it."

"If you think of one, let me know. He'll be waiting."

She didn't nod at him or even say goodbye. She just slowly reeled her arm back through the window and walked away.

"Bye."

Mokuba let himself in the backseat, letting the wind collapse from him and realized Mandel was waiting for him to give him instruction. He told him to take him home.

' _I can't believe that worked…_ '

He clumsily twisted his arm to pick up the kitten and set it on his lap. He pet it.

' _Kinda…_ '

He frowned.

' _Hardly…_ '

~ M ~

'" _You want two? I'd actually like it if I could keep some of them in pairs. Like me and Ren. We come in twos. It's not as lonely, y'know?"_ '

"Yeah," he said without opening his eyes. " _Much_ less." He sighed at the fact that in his head, it was voiced much more sarcastically.

Just then Mokuba thought about Joey's sister, Serenity. It had probably been just as long since he had last seen her as he had Joey himself. He idly wondered how she was doing. They had never talked much, which he would say with much more confidence if he could honestly remember ever having an actual conversation with her.

He wondered how she coped with having a much louder, rowdier, much more impulsive male role model being the soft-spoken, timid girl she was. Aside from their shared traits of an acute sense of righteousness and stubbornness, they seemed to be complete opposites.

He supposed Joey and his own brother were just as eccentric as each other, in their own way(s). He hypothetically wondered how different he and Serenity would have turned out if they had ever so happened to be interchanged.

He hadn't the slightest clue of how his brother would fare with a sister. Although…thinking of all the possible scenarios didn't fail to amuse him.

He thought about what it might be like to have Joey for a brother. He was more of a rough-em-up kind of guy who would definitely get along very differently in his opinion if Serenity had been a boy. They would scrap for fun and settle arguments in a different way and get into trouble, just like any other set of regular brothers would. He imagined himself with sharper battle instincts and an even quicker, wittier and comedic touch with the comebacks, and for some reason, he added on as an afterthought, more heavy-handed than his present counterpart. Joey looked to him like he might be heavy-handed.

That was probably the first thing to make him smile all day. What a silly thing to think.

He felt something climb between his legs and move up his chest. He quickly opened his eyes, his mind flashing over to Stephanie.

"You darn…cat." It cocked its head at him. Flustered, he pet it. "Seto's gonna kill me if he finds you in here."

He didn't see his brother until the next morning. Mokuba was intent on grabbing a late breakfast in the kitchen, where he found him expectedly having a "mid-to-late-morning" coffee break over the island as he did every Saturday, positioned as always as if he were ready to leave at a moment's notice.

"How's your shoulder?" he asked without looking up from his cellphone in hand above the counter.

"Getting better. Still tender."

"Hm." He took another sip of coffee. "You're not straining it any more than it needs too, are you?"

"I have to wriggle it around a little, make sure it doesn't become completely useless on me," he muttered. He hadn't told him about the situation with Stephanie's brother two days ago had and how it had probably significantly pushed back its recovery.

"I doubt that'll happen. As long as you're not sleeping on it, it should heal fairly quickly."

"In maybe five to seven more weeks?" he drawled as he sat across from him.

"Is that how much longer you want to be babied? Sets off a flag, doesn't it?"

Mokuba could clearly see the smirk on his face. "That's what you're here for, isn't it?" he replied with his own. "So what's for breakfast?"

He raised a brow, eyes still down to his phone. "I don't know why you're asking me. You can ask the cook to make whatever you want."

"So, can I have coffee?"

"Only if you want your blood to thin and have yourself crash in the middle of the day, which is what'll happen, which won't hasten your recovery and I refuse to be the reason behind you collapsing from dehydration and a massive blood sugar spike, that's if the Chlorogenic acid doesn't shut down the blood sugar metabolism in your liver first…"

"…I'm sorry I asked. I'll just have some oatmeal," he said to the awaiting cook over his brother's shoulder, "light on the brown sugar—yes, I checked it," he said at his brother's raised brow. "220."

His brother stood in that same spot until the cook had finished Mokuba's breakfast, hardly touching his coffee, lost in looking at lists of stock ratings the entire time he imagined, when out of nowhere it seemed, he suddenly asked;

"How often do you give money away, Mokuba?"

Mokuba halted his spoon mid-feeding. "What do you mean?"

Instead of answering, his brother shook his head, standing with his now cold mug. "Just watch who you give it to." Without sparing more than a cautious glance at him, he left the kitchen.

Mokuba blinked, turning to the maid, Cathy. "What was that all about?"

She shrugged earnestly. "I have no idea, Master Kaiba."

~ M ~

Another week or so went by before Stephanie approached him, unexpectedly.

"I want to see him."

Mokuba closed his locker, glancing around. "Have you named him yet?"

She lifted her head, caramel colored neck outstretched as if ready to nod when she stopped. She was wearing a colorful, decorative scarf with musical notes on it today, tucking in the ends of her straightened hair. Seemingly nervous, she bit her lip.

"Astrophe."

He blinked. "Astrophe?" he repeated, slowly. Instead of laughing, which he so desperately wanted to do, he instead said, "You know it's a boy, right?"

"It's my cat, let me name it what I want!"

"Okay, okay, fine. It's a cute name, I guess."

"Hmph. What have you been calling him?"

"'You'."

She blinked. "Me?"

"No—" He blushed. "As in, "Hey, you", that kind of 'you'."

"Ohh… Well, when can I come see it?"

"After school's fine," he said with his heart beating out of his chest. "I-I can give you a ride," he tried to add not too eagerly. "Or any other time you want i-is fine…"

She nodded, slowly. "…After school's fine."

She glanced behind her, hearing voices coming up the hall.

"Well, I should go. No use in meeting secretly if my brother or one of his friends sees me talking to you."

She smiled, wryly. Before leaving she looked at him, slightly offset of his face. Mokuba instantly touched a thumb to either corner of his mouth, they had just come from lunch. She shifted back a moment to look into his eyes again and quickly passed him by just as the crowd began to thicken dangerously at the end of the hall.

"S-same spot!" he called after her, hastily turning on his heel wishing he hadn't been so loud.

~ M ~

That afternoon they looked through opposing windows in silence, with an entire seat less between them versus the two seats that it would've been in his limousine.

Mokuba fidgeted as they pulled up to the usual corner where the homeless stranger often posted. He was there today. Mokuba dug in his pocket, grasped the first small wad of bills he felt, and slid down the window. The man gave him his usual smile, shaking his hand graciously, looking much more well than when Mokuba had first met him. He reeled himself back into his seat, when Stephanie had surprised him, asking,

"Do you come the same way every day?"

She was giving him a very strange look, almost as if she were suspicious of him.

"Mostly," he said. "It is the quickest."

She eyed him carefully before nodding and taking back to her window.

"If not this way I'm headed West, towards Kaiba Corp."

She nodded again.

Mokuba hesitated before looking out his window again.

"I never asked…" he began towards his reflection in the glass, "how was the trip to the planetarium?"

Stephanie perked. "Oh, I loved it, it was so pretty. Gorgeous. I love looking at the stars. Even though we weren't looking at them, live."

Mokuba nodded. ' _Duly noted…_ '

He then shook his head, frustrated at himself. Noted for what? What else did he expect to come of this? Nothing, of course. He was just taking Stephanie for a long-awaited visit to _her_ cat, Astro…

"Ohh…" he said, bursting out in a fit of giggles.

"What?"

"Cat-Astrophe?" He laughed some more. "I just got it."

"Is it really that funny?" she mumbled down to her lap.

"It's clever."

Just at that moment, the iron-wrought gates could be heard creaking open as the car came to a brief halt.

"We're here."

Stephanie lagged behind stepping out of the car as Mandel opened her door, taking in the long stone-set driveway looping about a spacious field of meticulously manicured grass, carefully placed with beds of white Tulips.

Mokuba, who was so used to coming home to such grandeur every day, waited for her to catch up in the middle of the stone staircase. She gazed up at the gigantic double Cherrywood doors, hung with great, identical brass knockers and startled as they were opened from inside.

"Welcome home Master Mokuba," the maid Mary greeted, bowing him in.

Mokuba flinched. "Ixnay on the 'Master' for now, please?" he whispered as she took his bag and he slipped off his shoes.

She looked from him to Stephanie, who was now taking in the grand staircase Mokuba descended every morning, not knowing that he mostly slid down the banisters whenever his brother was locked away securely in his study. "Of course, sir."

Mokuba sighed and rolled his eyes. He asked her to prepare some lemonade and bring it to the North sitting room. She bowed herself away.

"W-where's the kitten?" Stephanie managed to ask, obviously looking every which way worried that Mokuba allowed it to run loose in the massive house.

Mokuba lightly tapped her shoulder to prompt her to relinquish her bag, which Mary also took to hang by the door. Stephanie barely glanced down long enough to realize she was also meant to take off her shoes, slowly doing so as she looked to the chandelier above them.

"You don't want to see my room—I'll bring him down."

Mokuba escorted her back to the North sitting room, which had eggshell double doors that slid open.

Stephanie sat on a small sofa next to a dormant fireplace, in front of a large, uncurtained bay window that overlooked their backyard.

He expected the whole, "Wow, you _live_ here?", "You have a beautiful home", "This place is huge" spiel to come out spilling out of her mouth at any moment, but it never came. He had expected that to be forthcoming from her almost vehemently, but she couldn't have been all that surprised that he lived like this. And he knew that he was either right, the adoration was so gobstruck stuck to the roof of her mouth she couldn't voice it, or she simply just didn't want to give him the satisfaction of her flattery. Not that it really would have been exactly what she would rush to think.

He excused himself to his room, his heart beating quickly as he bothered himself with the image of Stephanie sitting in such a picturesque position centered and bathed in all of that beautiful, natural sunlight. In his home.

"Astrophe?" he called patting his thighs. The kitten instantly came running to him from underneath his bed. Mokuba picked him up and carried him downstairs, nestled within the crook of his sling. "You have a new Momma."

He startled Stephanie when he returned, whom was being offered a fresh glass of lemonade by Mary. He turned his back to her slightly and cleared his throat before stepping in. Mary promptly turned on her heel and left them alone.

"He responds well to the name you gave him," he said setting Astrophe down on the floor.

Stephanie moved to carefully kneel on the floor in front of the sofa. Mokuba sat across from her.

"So," he asked as Astrophe licked her hand, "what made you decide to trust me?"

"You were holding my cat hostage. I didn't have much choice, did I?"

"Sorry…"

Stephanie continued petting Astrophe. "I've had fish before. They died in two months." She tickled under his chin. "Maybe he'd be better off here, even if my parents weren't allergic…"

"Goldfish are bred just to die and make little kids depressed and make them terrified their parents will think they can't handle a little responsibility, you know that, right?"

"They were very expensive tropical fish. Made to last for years. I overfed them when I was eight and killed them."

Mokuba kept quiet for fear of aggravating her further.

"Dad just wanted to get me a pet. We kept them in the living room, in a huge tank, huge. My brother hated cleaning that thing…"

Astrophe climbed up onto her knee as her hand stopped stroking, leaping into her lap.

"We have a turtle that miraculously survived, he's still with us. I don't bother with it much."

Silence.

She smiled. "He's so cute." Astrophe purred, rubbing his head against her chest. Mokuba blushed. "Is your brother here?"

Mokuba chuckled to himself. If she only knew. "You'll probably never get to apologize in person, if that's what you're worried about," he said gesturing his sling about. "Leave a message, he'll get around to it."

"As if," she said, rolling her eyes.

Stephanie ended up staying for nearly an hour before Mokuba insisted riding with her when Mandel took her home. When he returned he did his homework in the same sitting room that evening and played with the kitten until dinner, managing to get him put away just minutes before his brother came storming through the door.


End file.
